Speak
by Larissa Fae
Summary: Post-TDK, AU, Joker/Rachel. A rehabilitated Jack Napier is brought into police custody after his wife of four years, Dr. Harleen Quinzel, falls to her death from their apartment. He's declared innocent, but 'rehabilitated' doesn't always mean 'cured.'
1. Chapter 1

Blood dripped once, twice onto the banister as it bit into soft skin; pale hands tightened their grasp, silken dressing gown brushing against delicate ankles. Far below, up above, all around, the lights of Gotham glowed, even at three in the morning. The sounds of a car backfiring drifted up to mingle with choked sobs, and blinking traffic lights reflected in tear tracks. Heels lifted off the ground, blonde waves brushed against a golden wedding band, and sky-blue eyes widened as balance was lost, a scream echoing along the valley of apartments as twenty-three stories to the ground passed in a blur.

***

The Spider Man theme song brought Rachel roughly out of her dreams and she flung one hand out to grab at her phone, the other wiping at her eyes as she tried to open them. Her clock read three-thirty in the morning; she'd had an hour and a half of sleep. No wonder she couldn't keep her eyes open. She gave up and flipped the phone open.

"What, Bruce."

"Harleen Quinzel is dead."

___That_ made her eyes fly open and she jolted up onto one elbow, automatically reaching for someone who wasn't there. She gritted her teeth through the sting and sat up fully.

"What happened?"

"According to ___him_, they had a fight and she ran out to the balcony in tears. Next thing he hears is a scream as she falls."

"Uhm." The District Attorney slid out of bed, thankful she'd talked her landlord into letting her carpet the bedroom as her bare feet hit soothing plushness, flicked her bedside lamp on and squinted in the sudden brightness as she headed to her bureau. "Where is he?"

"Gordon's got him in a special cell at the police department. He called 911 as soon as he realised she'd fallen." There was disgust, mistrust, and probably several other -ust words colouring Bruce's tone. Rachel ignored it as she hopped up and down, slipping into panties before pulling her Bluetooth out and fixing it in her ear.

"Uh-huh. He went with the police willingly?" She set her phone down, now able to get dressed without dropping it or getting a crick in her neck.

"He's been ___very_ helpful." Sarcasm dripped from him.

"Knock it off, Bruce," Rachel snapped as she flung her closet open and reached for the first pair of slacks hanging up. "It's been ten years."

"It's disgusting that he didn't get the death penalty, and letting him out of Arkham was insane!" her friend exploded. "He's probably been planning this whole damn ___thing_ ---"

"Do ___not_ yell at me, Bruce!" Rachel snarled. A sensible white button-down shirt and knee-high pantihose were donned as she fumed at him. "For the last eight years he hasn't done a damned thing wrong, and you ___know_ the last incident was ___clearly_ self-defence! He can't do a damned thing without permission --- no bank account, no driver's license, no car, ___nothing_. He has ___nothing_, and now his wife's dead. Go back to flying around the city; thank you for telling me, and I'll see you in the morning."

She hung up before Bruce could say another word, sweeping her purse and keys up before flying out the door. She ran the brush she kept in her purse through her hair on the elevator ride to the parking garage, and in less than five minutes was on her way to the Gotham police department.

***

"Rachel, what are you doing here?"

Despite his words, Gordon didn't look anything but relieved at her presence and Rachel smiled at him as she slipped her lipstick into her purse. He held his hand out and she shook it firmly, then he slid it to her elbow to carry her through the press that had mobbed the police department.

"Bruce called me. What've we got so far?" They slipped into the building and he kept his hold on her, guiding her through the halls. "Bruce just said that apparently they had a fight, she ran out onto the balcony, and he heard her scream as she fell."

"That's the story he's sticking to. None of the neighbours heard anything until Dr. Quinzel screamed; there's no record of domestic violence for them, and the neighbours recall hearing them yell at each other once or twice, but can't remember exact dates. From all points, it looks like Dr. Quinzel ___did_ simply lose her balance and fall."

"Their balcony railing was that low?"

Gordon sighed. "That's the only thing he's being evasive about. Here, he's being questioned --- he refused a lawyer. Dr. Quinzel's lip was cut open; the coroner said it looks at first glance like it was bitten through."

They stepped into the observation room and Rachel's throat constricted at the sight of him, slumped in his chair and looking off to the side. He was wearing bedclothes, ordinary bedclothes, and the shirt wasn't buttoned evenly. His hair hadn't been brushed, but it was clean, and he clasped his hands in front of him as he turned his wedding band around and around on his ring finger, his scars pulled into a frown and she swore his lower lip was trembling as he shook his head at the interrogator's latest question. That sight, and the look of shocked grief on his face, made Rachel's heart go out to him. Gone was the mass-murdering psychopath that had terrorized her, taken her world from her, almost, a decade ago, and in his place was a man who had just lost his wife, and was the prime suspect in her death.

"He's doing it wrong," she murmured.

Gordon leaned toward her. "Hm?"

"The detective. He's treating him like he's guilty. May I . . . ?" She jerked her head at the man, and Gordon watched her for a long moment before sighing.

"Are you sure?"

She looked at the figure, his head now bowed as he shook it again, and nodded. "Just . . . don't tell Bruce." She rolled her eyes as Gordon nodded his permission and clicked the intercom. "Hanson, come on out." The detective scowled and marched out of the room, and before Rachel left the observation room, Gordon stopped her. "We're keeping him here tonight; we've gotten a few death threats."

"Oh, Lord . . . Does he know?"

"Not yet."

"All right." She left and paused outside the interrogation room door, taking a few deep breaths to calm herself. Then she pushed the door open and he didn't even look up, not when she closed it, not when the clicking of her heels announced her gender, not when she stopped in front of him. She swallowed. "My apologies for Detective Hanson."

His head snapped up as he drew in a ragged breath, dark brown eyes wide and mouth a slightly crooked 'o' of surprise. Rachel offered a small smile and gestured at the chair across from him.

"May I sit?"

He stared for a moment, then clicked his jaw shut and half-stood, reaching his hands out in a "please" sort of gesture. "Of, of course, Ms. Dawes. I didn't think they'd call the D.A. in just to question me." He sat only after she did, a bit of courtesy that was touching and eerie, considering his past.

"Mr. . . . Napier, you haven't been charged with anything. We just need to figure out what happened to make your wife fall. There are a few points you've been evasive on; the sooner we can clear this up ---"

"I didn't push her." He shifted in his seat as he spoke, head lowered again and looking up at Rachel through his bangs. His eyes, now that she was closer, were red. He sighed and rubbed his forehead before resting it in the palm of his hand. "I . . . I just . . ."

Rachel poured him some water and he took it blindly. "I'm not here for vengeance, Mr. Napier," she said softly. "Please, tell me everything ---"

"We were having sex, all right?!" He jerked his head up again and his tongue flashed across his lips, then worried at the corner of his scars like it was a nervous habit. "I know I'm not allowed to, but we'd had a few drinks, then we were . . . we . . . I didn't mean to, I just bit her too hard when I . . . and Harleen got scared, and she ran out, and then she fell and now she's dead and everyone thinks I killed her, don't they?" Rachel jumped as he slammed his fists on the table, face screwed up in anger and agony. He was forcing his words out through sobs, snarling at himself. "And I did, didn't I? I didn't mean to, but I killed Harleen."

Rachel glanced at the mirror and shook her head. Woozy from alcohol, sex and fright would have been enough to impair Dr. Quinzel's judgment, maybe enough that she didn't realise she was so close to tipping over. Gordon would be requesting that the coroner verify that the woman had had sex recently, as well as her blood alcohol levels. Right now, though, Jack Napier was cradling his head in his hands, shoulders shaking with silent tears.

"I tried to stop her," he muttered before Rachel could ask him to continue, "I tried to apologise, but she grabbed her dressing gown and ran out to the balcony. I was just coming out of the room when she screamed." His voice dropped to an aching whisper. "I watched her fall," he groaned. "I watched her fall, I saw her hit the ground . . . and I couldn't do a damn thing to stop it from happening. The one time in my life I wanted to ___stop_ someone from dying, and I couldn't . . ."

The intercom clicked as Rachel stared at the man in front of her, a silent request that she leave. She swallowed tears for him and stood. "You're not being charged with anything at the moment, Mr. Napier," she assured him again, "but we've received several threats on your life." A muffled 'Let them kill me' greeted that, but Rachel went on. "You'll be staying here for the time being."

"Hope it's a better cell than ___last_ time," he muttered, raising tear-filled eyes to watch Rachel. "I'm sorry. That was in bad taste." He wiped at his face and sighed. "Does it feel good? Seeing me like this?"

The intercom clicked again, and Rachel looked at the mirror as she answered.

"No, Mr. Napier. It doesn't. An officer will be in presently to escort you to your cell. I advise you accept a lawyer; it won't hurt you, and it might help," she finished over his protests. She looked back at him as she unlocked the door, and he had returned his gaze to the table as she left.

There was a gigantic, unhappy bat in the observation room. Rachel sighed and leaned her head back against the wall as she rolled her eyes.

"You weren't supposed to come down here," he rasped at her. Rachel wondered if it was a voice box he used --- it had to be, otherwise he'd have ruined his voice by this time.

"I'd have come down in the morning anyway," she told him curtly.

"He's lying."

"You're biased."

Gordon was studiously watching the two guards escort Napier from the room, ignoring the bickering crusader and D.A. behind him.

"You don't know that he's innocent ---"

"According to the law ___you_ flap around to uphold," Rachel snapped, "he ___is_. Until we find evidence that he drugged her or pushed her, he ___is_ innocent. The man's just lost his wife, for Chrissakes! Have a ___little_ compassion!"

He advanced on her and she stood her ground. "Are you forgetting he almost blew you up? Are you forgetting Harvey?"

The slap that echoed made Gordon turn in shock, and Bruce was silent as a white palm print started fading to red. Rachel shook her hand at her side, trying to ease the sting out of it.

"Do ___not_ talk to me about Harvey," she growled at him. "I remember ___full_ well what the Joker did, and I do ___not_ need ___you_ to remind me. Don't you_dare_ bring Harvey up to me, ___ever again_, do you understand me?"

He stared at her for a few more moments, the turned and stalked out.

"And I ___hate_ that stupid outfit!" she snarled after the door had shut, before remembering the other man in the room. "God, Gordon, I'm so sorry that just happened ---"

"It's all right," he told her. Then he sighed. "Technically, we ___could_ throw him back into jail for drinking, but . . ."

"He's here already, and . . ." Rachel sighed. "It's hard to bust a man who's just lost his wife."

"Do you think he's telling the truth?"

Rachel leaned against the glass and rubbed her throat idly. "If it were anyone else, yes. Him, though . . . I don't know, Gordon. He seems so ___sincere_. So attached to Dr. Quinzel . . . I mean, I heard the rumours when they got engaged, but she'd made so much progress with him . . ."

"But rehabilitated doesn't mean cured," Gordon reminded her, and she nodded. "I'll need to read up on his conditions, but I'm not sure he's prohibited from drinking in his own home, with his wife."

"Alcohol, sex, the shock of him biting her so hard . . ." Rachel nodded and approximated the distance from a balcony to an apartment, then moved a chair into that space and turned it so the back was to the door. "Look, she's a little tipsy, right?" Gordon nodded as Rachel stood by the door. "She's been having sex ---"

"The neighbours said it was usually . . . ah . . ._enthusiastic_," the commissioner offered.

Rachel nodded. "Tipsy, amazing sex, then wham! He bites into her lip and it's harder than he intended, and now she's bleeding and suddenly afraid. Make sense?" Another nod. "Now, she pushes him away, jumps up and runs out." She ran slow-mo to the chair, grabbing it with both hands as her 'speed' brought her right up against the back. "Running a bit too fast, head starts spinning, and whoosh, over she goes." She leaned over in example, one foot kicking up behind her as she raised an eyebrow at Gordon. "Yes?"

"Makes sense." He hesitated. "Now . . . what if he ___did_ push her?"

Rachel pursed her lips with a frown and thought. She wasn't as defensive with Gordon because Gordon was clear-headed in regards to Napier and his past as the Joker. If Bruce even ___thought_ the Joker was being brought up, angry pigheaded stubbornness surfaced and he was impossible to talk to.

"If he ___did_ . . . No signs of a struggle?" Gordon shook his head. "Then maybe he bites her, she struggles a bit and gets out of his grasp --- if they were having sex, the bedding would be messed up anyway --- runs to the balcony to . . . what, scream for help? He comes up behind her and shoves? That doesn't make sense. Why not just run out the front door?"

"She was wearing a dressing gown," Gordon pointed out. "What if he was chasing her, and the balcony was her only chance to get away? Close it on him and start screaming?"

"She'd have to open it to get out, then close it, and that would have taken a lot of time," Rachel countered. "Unless it was already open?"

"They were very private; kept it closed and the blinds drawn most of the time."

"Makes sense, but then that doesn't match up." She sat in the balcony/chair, chewing on her lower lip. "Remember when that burglar broke in last March?" Gordon sat across from her and nodded. "I threw things at him, I screamed, and I ran out the front door. I ___didn't_ think to go straight for the balcony, and my neighbours hear me yelling in the apartment. The guy wasn't even armed. If he ___had_ been, I'd have been screaming my head off." She sighed. "We'll need the coroner's report, of course, and the CSI team needs to finish up, but just thinking about the situation, murder seems highly unlikely. Besides, he's got more to lose than gain, you know?"

Gordon ran his hands through his hair. "So it seems, but his motives were always his own and never sensible to us, remember? Maybe he just got . . . bored."

"Rehabilitated doesn't mean cured," Rachel repeated softly. Then she yawned and Gordon stood up.

"Thank you for coming down, Rachel. Go back home; if anything drastic happens I'll call you."

He was urging her up and Rachel let him, the adrenaline that had been singing through her veins since Bruce's first words slowly draining out of her.

"Thank you, James." Rachel smiled at him. "I think I know a lawyer who can represent him. He just moved to town; doesn't have quite so much baggage as the rest of us."

Gordon's eyes crinkled at the corners as he walked her to her car. "But you'll deal with that after you've slept, right?"

"Of course," she promised, looking up at him as she slid into her seat. They shared a long look before she smiled. "You get some sleep too, James."

"I'll try. Be safe."

"Always." He shut the car door and stood back, watching until Rachel had driven out of sight before turning back to the police department and the sudden mess he was in.


	2. Chapter 2

"Hideki, there you are. May I speak with you, please?" Rachel asked as she balanced breakfast in one hand and her day's cases in the other.

The younger attorney look up with a surprised, but pleasant smile and nodded. "Of course, Ms. Dawes." He said goodbye to his colleagues and followed her down the hallway. "Let me take these."

She handed over the case files gladly. "Thank you. We'll talk in my office --- you're not in trouble," she hastened to assure him. "Not at all." She smiled at the relief that flooded his face and they were quiet until she'd closed her office door behind them and motioned for him to sit. "I'm sure you're aware of Harleen Quinzel's unfortunate death this morning," she said as she poured them cocoa. After Harvey's death, she couldn't stand the taste or smell of coffee.

Hideki nodded. "Napier's in custody with the police, yes? Has he been charged?"

Rachel shook her head. "No, he's there for safekeeping. There have been a few death threats, and he doesn't have anywhere else to go while his apartment's being searched." She handed him a mug, then set her own on the desk as she picked up the first case file and handed it to him. She sat after he took it and leaned forward, folding her hands in a prayer-like gesture and resting her chin on the tips of her fingers. "I questioned him last night; feel free to go over the videos; I recommend you do, in fact, as I'm also recommending that you take his case."

The young lawyer's head snapped up in surprise. "_Me_?" he asked. Rachel nodded. "Beg your pardon, Ms. Dawes," and a little of his accent slipped through, "but I'm not sure I'm qualified ---"

"I think you're the most qualified," Rachel interjected. "You have a good track record, you're knowledgeable, _and_," she stressed as he opened his mouth again, "as a recent addition to Gotham, you're less biased against Mr. Napier and his past actions."

Hideki was quiet as he flipped to a new page of the file, and his eyebrows arched. "Bondage equipment?"

Rachel nodded. "Nothing hard-core; you can ask Mr. Napier about it when we see him." She paused. "Provided you're willing to take him on?"

Blue eyes twinkled as the young man smiled. "Of course I am, Ms. Dawes. Thank you so much for having faith in me."

She downed her cocoa in one gulp. "You've earned it. Finish up and you can view the interview, then we'll head down to the police department."

center***/center

"James, this is Hideki O'Hara; he'll be representing Mr. Napier."

The two men shook and exchanged pleasantries while Rachel looked longingly at her breakfast, still in its brown paper bag and clutched protectively in her hand. The conversation continued as they made their way to Napier's cell.

"He was _really_ antsy about the apartment being searched," Gordon was saying. "We thought it might have been something incriminating, but all we found was some light bondage gear."

"With his past, that's still enough to drive the press crazy," Hideki said. "Not to mention bias a jury against him. Has the autopsy come in?"

"Just a few minutes ago." Gordon handed it over. "She'd been drinking --- they both had --- and there was semen in her. Some nail scratches, but no signs of a struggle, drugs, nothing. Except for the alcohol and ropes, the apartment's clean. His story checks out."

"Little too drunk, bites a little too hard when he orgasms, she freaks and runs." Hideki was nodding. "Plausible. What about her overall mental state?"

"You mean, how could she go from being his psychiatrist to being his wife? We pulled all her tests from Arkham, and they all imply she was very well-adjusted, no dependent tendencies or anything he could use against her. Still, he's a master at manipulation."

Hideki pulled at his lower lip as the cell block door opened. "I have to assume my client's innocent, Commissioner Gordon."

"If it's any help, Ms. Dawes and I both think he is, and we have more cause than most to think the opposite."

Hideki smiled and nodded. "Thank you."

"Ms. Dawes, Commissioner," Napier said as the trio walked up to his cell. Gordon went to unlocking the door as dark brown eyes sought out Hideki and Napier pulled back a bit.

After a glance at Rachel, Hideki smiled and held his hand out as Gordon gestured for Napier to come out of the cell. "Mr. Napier, I'm Hideki O'Hara. With your permission, Ms. Dawes has assigned me to your case."

Napier turned a hard stare on Rachel, then slowly took Hideki's hand as the unconscious worrying of his scars began again, the tip of his tongue flicking from one side of his mouth to the other. His eyes kept flicking between the three of them, unsure if this was a trap or not.

"Mr. O'Hara. If Ms. Dawes says so . . ."

The handshake was quick, Napier pulling away after a few seconds and absently rubbing his palm on his leg. Hideki paid it no mind, Rachel noted with approval.

"Thank you, Mr. Napier. I'll try not to let either of you down." Napier didn't look convinced; he simply shrugged. Hideki turned to Gordon. "Commissioner, do you have a room available where my client and I can talk?"

"Of course. Right this way. Ms. Dawes? Will you be sitting in on the conversation?"

"If you need me to," Rachel said as she looked between Napier and Hideki. Napier was still unsure about the young lawyer, and Hideki was still unsure about the case. From the glances both of them were giving her, they both wanted her there. "Let me make a few calls and then I'll be right in."

"Interrogation room B12," Gordon told her as she stopped by a side corridor.

"Thank you."

center***/center

"Water, Mr. Napier?" Hideki offered with professional courtesy.

Napier finally looked at him. "Anything to wash down that crap they fed me this morning." He downed the glass and looked up for permission as he reached for the pitcher.

Hideki waved him ahead. "Have as much as you like." He waited until Napier had finished half the glass, flipping through the case file again. "The good news is that everything checks up with your story, Mr. Napier. I have a few questions, though."

"The bondage gear or the medications? I need those, by the way. I was supposed to take some . . ." His lips moved silently as he rolled his eyes up. "Three hours ago."

Hideki nodded. "We'll get them for you. Thank you for telling me, and yes, my questions are about both. We'll be in touch with your main psychiatrist to keep the prescriptions filled."

"I _married_ my main psychiatrist," was the tart rejoinder.

"My apologies," Hideki corrected himself. "Dr. . . . Morgenson, then." He made a note in a margin and nodded. "Will there be any side effects of missing the medicine today?"

"I can still take it today," Napier said tiredly. "I'll just . . . get irritable in a few days. Well. I might throw things. Probably. There's a reason Harleen and I don't --- didn't --- have any knives in the apartment." His voice choked up a bit and he cleared his throat. "Your mother's Japanese?"

Hideki looked up in faint surprise before nodding. "Yes, she is. From Sapporo."

"Good beer. Not that I'm allowed any."

The young man smiled and nodded. "She prefers Asahi, ironically." He sighed. "You're on twelve different medications, then. Anti-psychotics, anti-depressants, mood stabilisers . . . good God, how are you _walking_ with all this in your system?"

Napier shrugged again and ran his hand over the stubble on his chin with a faint curl of his upper lip. "Sometimes I'm not. Walking, that is. Modern behavioral medicine is bullshit; shrinks don't know how it all interacts, so they give you mix after mix, dose after dose, trying to find some sort of balance. One makes you a zombie, one irritates the 'symptoms,' one works fine for a year and then stops completely . . ." He gave a disgusted snort. "But, hey, whatever works. It got me out of Arkham and into some semblance of a normal life." His eye twitched. "And Harleen," he added softly.

"My condolences for your loss," Hideki said with equal softness. Napier looked up at him and his mouth twitched as he shrugged with one shoulder. "All right," he said brightly, "that takes care of the medicine. Now, about the bondage gear . . . ?"

The door opened and Napier's cheeks flushed slightly. "Could have asked about that _first_," he mumbled as Rachel walked in.

"I'm sorry about that," she said as she pulled out a chair and sat down, her breakfast still in it's bag, just aching to meet her stomach. She set another bag, larger, in front of Napier. "Your medications."

"Oh, it's no problem. You didn't miss the interesting part." Napier's sarcasm was obvious as he slumped lower in his chair. He spilled the contents of the bag onto the table, rummaging just a bit before selecting three bottles and twisting them open. It was obvious he was stalling as he showed them the labels and how many pills he took out, then downed them with water and dragged the back of his hand across his mouth. "Thanks. Look, I ---" He sighed and ran his hands through his hair, straightening up and rubbing the scars on his face. He continued to use his hands as he spoke, jabbing and waving to emphasize his speech. "I like pain, all right? And Harleen . . . didn't . . . mind giving it. Wasn't really her thing, but she indulged me on occasion." He shrugged, upset and perhaps embarrassed to be revealing this in front of Rachel. He was tapping his heel against the leg of his chair, speeding up and slowing down as his agitation ebbed and flowed. "I just . . . I didn't want that getting out," he said shortly. Rachel was almost afraid he was going to hyperventilate. "And look, will you just eat your food, already?" he snapped at her. "You've been eyeing it all morning." He pressed his fingers to his temples and then sat back. "Fuck, I'm sorry. I'm just ---"

"It's understandable, Mr. Napier," Rachel said soothingly as she gladly took out the huge burrito.

"Good God, where do you i_put/i_ that?" Napier queried suddenly. "There is _no_ way you can fit all that food into you."

He was staring at her in such amazement that Rachel had to giggle. She tried to cover it with the burrito and her hands, but Napier was leaning toward her now, utterly fascinated. Charm oozed from him as he gestured for her to eat. "No, please, go ahead. I want to see you eat that whole thing."

"I can't eat with you staring at me," she mumbled through her giggles.

"Hey, _I_ told _you_ I'm a little kinky, now I get to watch you eat that. Not much of a fair trade, but I'll take it. I don't think you can eat that in one sitting."

"Some of it will be my lunch," Rachel confessed and he sat back, satisfied that he'd been right.

Hideki cleared his throat and they both looked at him. "Well, I don't see anything that indicates you'd be charged for anything, Mr. Napier."

A shadow fell across the man's face. "What about the alcohol?"

Hideki nodded. "The initial conditions of your parole were no alcohol, period, but after you got married, no one bothered to revise them. Technically you could be put in jail for it, but I don't think it will come up. I'll look more into it, but if it does, I think we can successfully argue that you're allowed to drink with your wife."

Napier nodded, and something flickered across his face. "Ah . . . Harleen . . . her family stopped talking to her. I mean, funeral arrangements . . . shit, rent's due next week . . ."

He started to slump again and Hideki leaned forward. "We'll get in touch with them, Mr. Napier. Don't worry; you'll be able to attend the funeral." Napier flinched, but nodded. "As for rent, I'm not sure, but the D.A.'s office will be in touch with your landlord."

Rachel nodded. "We've already sent someone, in fact."

His gaze flickered toward her. "Thanks." A slight shifting in his chair and his tongue snaked out again, wetting his lips. "Is there anything else? I mean, not that I'm exactly _busy_, or _thrilled_ about going back to a cell, but . . ."

"A few more questions, yes. After that, I think an officer will escort you home to gather any personal items you might need for the next few days." Napier was rubbing at his stubble again. Hideki took a deep breath and let it out slowly as he looked over a report. "Your neighbours seem fairly neutral in regards to you . . . you don't appear to get out very often."

"Yeah, my collar and scars tend to attract attention." Hideki and Rachel looked at Napier and the man returned their slightly shocked gazes steadily before a smile started to creep across his features. "That and I have an unconscious tendency to fuck with people. It amused Harleen."

"You're adjusting rather well to her death," Rachel put in. His jovialness was disconcerting.

Napier turned toward her and his eyes narrowed before he closed them with a deep breath. "She's gone; there's nothing I can do about it. I can't ever have her back." His hands clenched into fists for a moment. "I haven't started killing people, so I think I'm coping pretty damned well." He waved off her apology. "Besides, I don't like police. Next question? Want my daily schedule?" Hideki's lips twitched, but he was weathering the outburst of irritation well. "Fine. Her alarm went off at five-thirty, I'd get up and make breakfast while she showered. We'd be at the Jamba Juice on the corner at six, then go back to the apartment. I'd get a blowjob before she left if I was lucky --- a fuck if I was _really_ lucky --- then she'd be gone no later than seven-fifteen. I'd clean the apartment, feed the cat, watch a TV show . . . what's it called . . . Pokemon. Yeah, that little chirping yellow thing. Cute as hell. I'd do laundry at noon, catch the 44 downtown for a two o'clock anger management course, take the 171 to be at Dr. Morgenson's by five, take the six-fifteen bus back home, feed the cat again, and make dinner; ready at seven-thirty, and Harleen got home between then and eight." He sat back in his chair. "I'm a regular little house-husband." Then he raised his eyebrows at then. "They didn't let the cat out last night, did they? Harleen would _kill_ me if anything happened to that damned cat."

"Flame-point Siamese?" Napier nodded. "It's still there. Took a swipe at the officer who tried to get it out from under the bed, and anyone who walked too close, though."

Napier was smug as he nodded. "Fucking Nazi cat, is what he is. His name's Rory, and no, I didn't train him to be an asshole. He just came like that."

Rachel's phone started buzzing and she jumped a little, then flicked the alarm off. "I'm sorry, gentlemen, I have another appointment. Are you both all right . . . ?"

The two looked at each other before Napier shrugged. "He's all right. Thank you."

The quiet appreciation was evident in his voice and eyes, and Rachel nodded with a smile. "Of course, Mr. Napier. Hideki, I'll call you this afternoon."

"Right. Have a good day, Ms. Dawes."

"You, too."

They were already turning back to each other as Rachel left the room.

center***/center

"Another burrito? You're going to get fat."

"Funny, Mr. Napier. You haven't shaved."

He shrugged. "Harleen did it for me. Not supposed to touch razors, y'know. Bad for other people's health." He had stood up when he saw her, and leaned against the bars of the cell. "Is this a business or social call? Please tell me you have better things to do on your lunch hour than visit me."

Rachel smiled slightly as she sat across from him and took out her food, deliberately taking a huge mouthful as he watched and snorted. She chewed with obvious pleasure, then washed it down with the soda she'd brought in before answering. "It's a little of both; I thought you might like the company, for one, and the police announced this morning that you're not being charged with anything; Harleen's death is an official accident. It's been agreed that since you were drinking under the supervision of your wife, it doesn't constitute a violation of your parole. Congratulations, Mr. Napier, you're free to leave whenever you wish."

He didn't take the news as well as he might have. There was no relief, no smile, nothing but a heavily lidded stare as he sat back against the wall and stretched his long legs out in front of him. Rachel sighed and set her food to the side, getting up and taking the cell keys from her pocket. He tilted his head up slightly to watch her.

"Are you sure that's safe, Ms. Dawes?" he asked in a low voice.

No, she wasn't. Rachel pulled out a razor from the plastic baggie she'd brought with her and motioned for him to stand. "Get up; I'll give you a shave. Where's the shaving cream?" She ignored him as she went to the small sink and turned the tap on, assuming he'd stand. He was still sitting when she turned around. "Well? Do you want to leave here looking like a bum?"

"Are you sure that's safe, Ms. Dawes?" he repeated, again in that low voice.

Rachel's brow puckered slightly. "Why wouldn't it be?"

Napier's mouth twisted as he heaved himself up, and he shook his head. "Never mind. I'm not going to hurt you." He stepped around her and picked up the shaving cream from the array of bottles on the shelf above the bed, ordered neatly from largest on the left to smallest on the right, and hummed slightly as he bent over the sink to lather himself up. Rachel motioned him to sit on the bed when he was done and he obeyed silently, eyes falling halfway shut as she reached for him. As soon as she touched his cheek, though, he stiffened and pulled away slightly, then coughed. "Sorry," he muttered. "I don't like people touching my face."

"I can't let you do this by yourself," Rachel reminded him. "I'll try to stay away from your scars, if it bothers you."

A shrug. "Harleen always told me I needed to learn to trust others. Have at it."

He was still tense, but held perfectly still as Rachel edged between his knees and took him gently by the chin and pressed the razor to his cheek. A soft sigh escaped his lips as she pulled the razor down, and he seemed to lean into the pressure. After a few more strokes Rachel noticed that his breathing was a little too regular, and he was grasping the legs of the jeans he wore rhythmically. It occurred to her that the act of being shaved had, somewhere along the way, turned into an erotic act for him and Rachel was suddenly flushed, embarrassed. That's what he must have meant, asking if she was sure it was safe to shave him. She swallowed past a dry throat and licked her lips, and prayed that it was just a coincidence that he smiled slightly after she did. His eyes appeared to be completely shut, and she hoped fervently that they were. He tilted his head back to allow her access to his throat and she swallowed again, her heart pounding. Psychotic sociopath or not, Glasgow smile and Batman-induced scars or not, Jack Napier was a handsome man.

_'God, this is how _porn_ starts, Rachel,'_ she told herself firmly, and the ridiculousness of that thought grounded her. She finished with one more swipe and then handed him a hand towel, turning around quickly to rinse the razor before he opened his eyes. She felt them on her, though.

He took a few deep breaths before speaking. "Thank you."

". . . Sure," she replied, finally turning around. He was still sitting, hands folded calmly in his lap, but his eyes followed her every move. "Gordon says you can stay another night, if you like, or he can get you an escort home. The judge has ruled to transfer Harleen's bank account to your name, so your rent for the next month or two is covered."

He was silent a moment. Then, "Yeah, sure, I'll go home. Don't really want to be here, anyway, and it's not the most convenient place to have therapy sessions." He finally stood up and started to gather his things as a guard came in. "Hey, Ms. Dawes . . ."

Rachel turned around from packing her lunch. "Yes?"

"Thanks for feeding Rory."

She smiled. "It was no problem, Mr. Napier. You have Hideki's number; give him a call if you ever need him."

He was still staring at her. "Yeah. Sure."

Rachel paused only once to look back at him before continuing on to her next appointment.


	3. Chapter 3

Rachel stood and held her hand out with a smile. "Dr. Morgenson; I'm sorry about the wait. What may I do for you?"

The older man --- thinning hair, a bit of a paunch, but clear gray eyes --- took her hand gently and smiled with his mouth only. "I'm sorry to bother you, Ms. Dawes. I'm worried about Jack."

Rachel's own mouth went dry and her smile melted. "Has he done anything? When was the last time you spoke with him?"

The doctor shook his head. "He hasn't done anything that I know of. He showed up at the police department a few days ago and asked to be put in a cell for a night or two because he missed his morning medication after Harleen died --- which was quite the forward-thinking thing for him to do --- and I spoke to him last night." He sat and fingered his mustache. "What do you know about Jack's psychiatric case, Ms. Dawes?"

Rachel started to gesture toward her cocoa machine, but he waved her off and she settled into her chair. "I've read a lot, actually. I have a rather . . . personal interest in what makes him like he is." Morgenson nodded, his eyes flicking to the picture of Harvey she kept on her desk. "A lot of it confused me, but I got the general gist of the 'super-sanity' theory. Sounded crazy to me, but . . . still, it made some sense."

Morgenson nodded again and leaned forward. "Jack can i_not_/i handle daily life, Ms. Dawes. He's a sociopath, psychotic, antisocial . . . I don't know what sort of upbringing or background he has, but for how he's turned out, it wasn't good. The point is, at some point he lost the ability to filter all the information he receives on a daily basis, and it overloads his system. He can't handle it, so he breaks it down into the smallest bits he's capable of; that's why sometimes he's pulling 'pranks,' as he calls them, like filling that fire hydrant with foam and lighting that bakery on fire, and sometimes he's going on a murdering spree. He adapts his personality to his immediate surroundings." He paused to see that Rachel was following, and she nodded to show she understood. "He's highly obsessive-compulsive, and extremely jealous of things that he considers his. More, I believe that his long-standing . . . ah . . . i_infatuation_/i, you could say, with Batman is because Batman provided him with a constant that he'd never had before. Jack defined himself in terms of existing in Batman's world, rather than Batman existing in his." He cocked his head as if waiting for something, then offered more information. "What made Harleen so successful in her treatment of him, and why I was able to talk the Psychiatric Board down from revoking her license, was that she replaced the Batman constant with a much healthier one." Again he paused.

"Herself," Rachel said, and was rewarded with a warm smile and a nod.

"Exactly. She gave him the attention he wanted, and kept him in a tight routine that he could work with, even if he resented being on such a short leash at times. Now, this doesn't go further than us --- and _inever/i_ reaches Jack --- but Harleen was a mediocre psychiatrist at best. I was one of her professors in college; she slept with a good deal of them in order to pass, and she never had much ambition or talent. Jack's case challenged her, I think. She actually began to i_work/i_ at finding a way around his issues in order to help, rather than relying on textbooks." He looked proud of the dead woman. "By the way, if he ever lets you, look at his notes. The man's da Vinci reincarnated, I swear it . . . albeit it's the drawings that are doodles in the margins, not the war machines. He and Harleen would sit up all hours of the night, talking about whatever had caught his attention that day. Sometimes it was taking over a small country, sometimes it was an improvement on something, and sometimes they made clothes." Morgenson smiled. "Jack likes to make his own clothes; it's a point of pride for him." He sat back and ran his fingers down his maroon tie. "Do you see the problem?"

Rachel thought about it, but it was painfully clear. "With Dr. Quinzel dead, he's lost his stability, hasn't he?" Morgenson nodded. "Will he take his medication with her gone? And for that matter, how effective _iis/i_ his medication?"

Morgenson pursed his lips and spoke slowly. "It . . . has some effect. I'm not sure if it works because Harleen was there to stabilise him enough, or if it stabilised him enough for Harleen's methods to work, but . . . I know they worked in tandem."

A thought had been nibbling at her for a while. "Are you asking me to babysit him, Doctor? Or assign him a babysitter?"

The man had the grace to look embarrassed. "I'm afraid I am, Ms. Dawes. He told me that you shaved him; I doubt you realise how much trust he put in you to do that. He's obsessively touchy about his scars, he hates people touching him . . . I think he's beginning to transfer his . . ." He scratched an eyebrow. "I don't want to call it an obsession, but . . . I think he's focusing more on you in order to keep himself stable. I'm not saying you have to take Harleen's place," he said as Rachel's eyebrows went up and she opened her mouth. "Not at all; I think that's one of the worst things that could happen. Jack needs time to mourn her. But if he trusted you that much --- and it _iwas/i_ an extreme act of trust, no matter how flippant he may have been about it --- if he trusted you that much, it's important for his mental stability that you not push him away. That's why I'm here. I didn't think you realised what was going on." Rachel sat back as he eyed her. "He said you fed Rory without anyone asking you to. He's fascinated that you don't seem to bear a grudge against him."

He was probing. Rachel shrugged. "Ten years is a long time to hold a grudge, and I was always bad at those, anyway. He seems to be making so much progress, and I just want to leave the past behind me."

Morgenson looked at Harvey's picture again and Rachel wanted to snap at him, but she held her tongue. "I understand. Here, let me give you my card in case you need to discuss Jack with me." He held the embossed card out and Rachel took it, sliding it into her purse. "He likes that you eat those huge burritos. It amuses him."

"I know," she returned. "He said I'd get fat from eating them."

"Usually it's things like blind babies and AIDS that amuse him. And sombreros." Morgenson shrugged as he stood, and Rachel followed suit. "So laughing at you and your burritos is progress."

Rachel offered her hand and shook it with a nod. "Glad to be useful, Doctor. I'll . . ." She hesitated, then took the plunge. "I'll be able to stop by his apartment after work. Do I need to call to warn him?"

The relief on Morgenson's face was almost painful to see. "Please. He works best on a set schedule. I'll call to let him know you'll be in touch with him; it will give him time to clean the apartment, if he hasn't been over it twenty times today already. Thank you so much, Ms. Dawes. And please, call me after you leave to let me know how things went. Jack is still very unpredictable, and what seems like an adverse reaction isn't always."

Rachel walked him to the door and shook his hand again. "I will, Doctor. Thank you for your time."

"No, thank _iyou/i_," he said, then turned and walked away.

Rachel sighed as she closed her office door and sat back at her desk, taking Harvey's picture in her hands and staring down at it as tears filled her eyes. "Oh, Harvey," she whispered. "I miss you so much . . . Oh, God, I hope I'm doing the right thing . . ."

center***/center

The phone rang six times before it was picked up, but there was silence on the other end. Rachel frowned, but when Dr. Morgenson had called to let her know it was all right to place her own call, he'd said Jack usually didn't speak when he picked the phone up. Rachel listened, and caught faint breathing.

She swallowed. "Mr. Napier? This is Rachel Dawes." The breathing increased in volume, and she went on, her heart pounding. She tried not to talk like he was a simpleton. "I'm just off work, and I thought you might like some company. Would it be all right if I came over?"

There was at least thirty seconds of silence before his low voice answered. "Are you bringing your burrito?"

It sounded scratchy, like he'd been crying. Or yelling. Rachel forced a smile. "I already finished it."

". . . Oh."

There was more silence.

"Are you coming over or not?" he asked suddenly, sounding slightly irritated.

Rachel rolled her eyes. "I'll be there in half an hour."

There was a faint 'Goodbye' just before the line died, and Rachel rubbed her eyes as she wondered what she'd gotten herself into. Well, in this traffic, she had half an hour to stew over it. She sighed and started her car, heading west to the address that Hideki had given her.

center***/center

It was actually about forty minutes later when Rachel stood in front of Napier's apartment and stared at the numbers. She raised her hand, then lowered it. She still wasn't sure if she should be putting herself in this position, but her heart was screaming that she had to find some way of helping this man who couldn't seem to catch a break. She sigh and rapped firmly on the door and it opened so quickly that he must have been waiting right beside it. Rachel stepped back in surprise, then smiled lest Napier think she was offended.

He stood before her, wearing a dark gray . . . yes, _icrocheted/i_ pullover, dark blue jeans that fit like a second skin and left her wondering wear he got them tailored, and bare feet. His hair looked like he'd run his fingers through it to comb it, and he was once more covered in stubble. No matter; she'd brought his razor. Dark eyes looked her up and down, then he gestured her in.

"Quick, before that damn cat gets out," he muttered.

She had to squeeze past him, and it made her uncomfortable, but there _iwas/i_ a beautiful medium-haired flame-point Siamese creeping toward the door. Napier shut it as soon as Rachel was in and the cat took off to a different room, his escape plan foiled.

"Asshole," Napier called after him. "What?" he asked as he turned and caught Rachel's smile.

"It's nothing," she assured him. "I'm sure Rory just missed me."

"Missed trying to kill you," Napier corrected. "Well?"

"Hm?" She'd been looking at some sort of project he had laid out over the floor. It looked like a patchwork 3D puzzle, almost.

"What do you want?"

Oh, that. Rachel regarded the nervous man in front of her and smiled. "To socialise with you."

"Morgenson sent you."

"Yes."

"Did he tell you I'm crazy?"

"I have firsthand experience of that," Rachel returned.

Napier seemed taken aback for a moment, then shook his head. "Oh. Yeah."

"Oh. Yeah," Rachel repeated as she rolled her eyes. "Are you hungry?"

"Got plenty of leftovers. Still cooking for two." Napier was bouncing on his heels slightly, unsure of what to do with the woman in his living room. He obviously wasn't good with company. "Could use a Jamba Juice, though. Haven't had once since . . ." He turned suddenly and flounced with surprising grace back to his project, sinking to the floor Indian-style and picking up pieces, carefully sewing them together. Rachel had been right, he _iwas/i_ making some sort of patchwork 3D object. She almost laughed as his tongue snaked out of his mouth as he concentrated, but he'd probably get upset, so she squished the urge. She sat across from him and he spared her a glance, brown eyes rolling up in their sockets to follow her downward movement, then he returned his attention to the project. He was focused completely on his work, but energy radiated from him, barely contained by what currently held his attention.

"Would you like to get some?" Rachel asked after a moment.

"Huh?" He looked up like he'd forgotten she was there, and maybe he had.

"Would you like to get some Jamba Juice?" Rachel asked again.

He was quiet for a while as he looked at her, then slowly set the pieces of fabric in his hands down. ". . . Yeah, sure. Please and thank you."

She smiled, relieved that he hadn't taken offense at the offer. "It'll be my treat." She stood up, conscious of his gaze on her, and tugged her skirt down a bit. It was a moment before he stood, shuffling to the door to slip into a pair of sneakers. Rachel recognised the signs of depression and was gripped with the sudden urge to hug him, but she held back. He looked so damn _ilost/i_. "Mr. Napier ---"

"Christ, just call me Jack. I hate being called 'Mister' all the time. Any time." He looked to the side as she walked up to him, hiding most of his scars from her sight.

"Jack, then, so long as you call me Rachel." He blinked once. "I brought your razor," she said as he opened the door. That got his attention and he looked at her fully, eyebrows going up. "I figured you'd need a shave."

He took a deep breath. ". . . That's a dangerous thing to do, Rachel."

She glanced up at him with a slight smile as he locked the door. "I'm not going to have sex with you, Jack." He made a noncommittal sound, but she could see that her response had startled him. He moved down the hall and she stepped quickly to keep up. "And unless you want to look like a mountain man, I'm the only one you have to give you a shave right now. Oh, there's Doctor Morgen---"

"_iNo/i_." Rachel laughed at the forcefulness of his voice and Jack glared at her before his lips screwed up into a reluctant smirk. "It's not nice to use a man's weaknesses against him."

"I was just listing your choices. Either I do it and you keep your hands to yourself, or Doctor . . ." She trailed off at the face he made, still chuckling. He sighed before grinning reluctantly. The scars on his face twisted his smile into something less than pleasant, but it was still good to see.

They continued on in an easy silence, and Rachel glanced over when Jack raised his left hand to his mouth and started chewing on his wedding band. He kissed it briefly, then went back to chewing. The pattern repeated, and she pretended not to notice.

"Do you know what you want?" Rachel asked as they approached the smoothie shop.

"They know," Jack muttered. He was following close behind her as she opened the door, and the reason was clear as the redhead at the cashier spotted them.

"Hi! Welcome to Jamba Juice! How are you?" A chorus of greetings followed as the other team members greeted them, and she heard Jack grit his teeth.

"Good, thank you," Rachel replied. She'd forgotten Jamba Juice's apparent behavioral policy: the more upbeat, the better.

"Hey, Jack's back! You want your usual?"

He was nodding into her hair, and Rachel realised he was hiding his scars from the girls. When the cashier tilted her head with a quizzical look, she nodded. "Yes, please."

"No problem!" That energy couldn't be natural. Rachel glanced over the menu; she'd never been in a Jamba Juice. Harvey or Bruce had always brought it to her. "Do you need help choosing a smoothie?"

"Ah . . . yes."

The girl came around the corner and Jack stiffened, leaning away a bit. Foosh, her name tag read. Foosh stopped and Jack relaxed, and she turned to the menu board. "Do you like sweet or sour?"

Rachel frowned. "Sweet."

"How about a Caribbean Passion? It's got passion fruit-mango juice, orange sherbet, strawberries and peaches."

She shrugged. "Sure."

"You also get one of our free nutritional boosts," Foosh went on, gesturing to another board in front of the cash register.

Rachel glanced down at it. "Ah . . . Daily Vitamins?"

"No problem! What size? Sixteen ounce, Original, or Power?"

Rachel found the three example cups and pursed her lips. "Sixteen, please."

"Sure. We've got a one hundred-percent guarantee, by the way. If you ever don't like your smoothie, give it back and we'll make you a new one of the same size." Once more in her proper spot, Foosh put the information in the computer and nodded. "Original for you, Jack?" The man nodded, fingers gripping Rachel's shirt at her lower back. "Okay, that'll be . . . four-thirty-five."

Rachel raised her eyebrows. "For two smoothies?" Hers alone was three-fifteen.

Foosh pursed her lips and gave Jack a sympathetic look before striving for innocence. "Yeah. Because I can. Those'll be out in just a minute. Unless you wanted one of our baked goods . . . ? No? Okay."

That seemed to settle it. Rachel paid her and then moved out of the next customer's way, Jack still holding on to her shirt.

"Are you all right?" she murmured.

"Mm."

"That doesn't tell me much."

"You're taller than Harley," he murmured.

Rachel blinked and craned her neck around to look at him. "Pardon?"

"Makes it easier to hide behind you." He wouldn't let her turn around, resting his chin on the top of her head.

Oh. Harleen. Harley. A nickname. It made him eerily normal, and Rachel cleared her throat as he clutched at her. "If you insist."

"Here you go, Jack!" the girl pouring smoothies --- Ashley --- called out with a smile. Rachel and Jack moved forward to take their smoothies, and Rachel thanked her. "Oh, no problem. We miss you, Jack. Come visit us soon, okay?"

He didn't reply, just looked at his feet and then to the side, and Rachel smiled and thanked the girl again before taking his elbow and leading him out. A chorus of goodbye's followed them, and once they were around the corner Jack stopped and slumped against the wall. He wiped at his forehead as he sipped at his smoothie, then gave Rachel a tired smile.

"I hate going in there."

Rachel was surprised, but then again, she wasn't, not if that was the reception this shy and socially awkward man always got.

"I'm sorry," was all she could think of to say.

He sighed and watched her try her drink. "Good?"

"Surprisingly." Rachel looked up at him and tilted her head, smiling gently.

"I tried to kill you," he said suddenly.

Rachel's eyebrows went up. "Pardon?"

"I tried to kill you. I killed your fiance. Stop looking at me like you care."

Oh. She shook her head. "That was ten years ago. You've changed, you know. Haven't you?"

He shrugged. "Maybe. Yeah. I've changed. Why don't you hate me?"

"Because it takes too much energy," Rachel replied. He raised his eyebrows. "And besides, you're very hard to hate at the moment."

"I don't want to be pitied."

"I don't pity you. I sympathise with your loss."

He paused. "Oh." His arms went across his stomach and he looked to the side.

Rachel watched him, then sighed softly. "There's a park down the street. It's a nice day."

". . . I hate the park," he muttered, but he walked off that direction anyway. Rachel followed at his side, then tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow. He missed a step and stared down at her sharply, but Rachel just smiled up at him as they waited for the light to change. "Why?" he asked.

"Because you don't need to suffer all alone," she replied. His reply was cut off by the light changing, and she tugged him across the street.

"I hate being touched."

He wasn't trying to pull away. If anything, the man was leaning in closer. Rachel nodded. "Well, as soon as you don't like it, you can pull away."

"Why are you going to give me a shave?"

"Because you need one, Jack."

"It turns me on."

Rachel looked up at him. "Does that bother you?" He turned his face away, avoiding her gaze and her question. "Because I'm not Harleen?"

Jack flinched. It answered her question. Rachel was quiet, thinking of a reply, and then he spoke. "Is that bad? I mean, obviously, but . . ." He sighed and kicked at a rock.

They turned into the park and Rachel headed for a quiet spot. "It's . . . something you've been conditioned to respond to," she replied. "So it's not surprising that you respond to it. You're also . . . vulnerable, right now. You . . . you don't have the physical comfort you used to. So . . . I don't think it's bad."

Jack didn't say anything until she'd found them a quiet patch of ground to sit on, and watched her arrange herself decently before sitting and speaking again. "She's not . . . _ithere/i_. I make breakfast, and she's not there. I make dinner, and she's not there. I started our castle, and she's not there." He was breathing more deeply, swallowing past tears. "I . . ." He sighed. "I'm fine when she used to leave, up until she used to get back home. But when she's supposed to be there, and she's _inot/i_, I . . . I don't know what to do." He pulled his knees up to his chest and stared at her for a moment. "Was it like that after Harvey died?"

Rachel's heart clenched more, and she wiped tears from her eyes as she nodded. "It was. I'd expect him to walk into the office with our morning coffee, and he wouldn't. Sometimes I'd stare at the door for a half hour or more, just . . . waiting. And he never came."

If she was expecting an apology, it wasn't forthcoming. Jack just stared at her, then slowly tilted over until he lay on his side. He was still watching her when his eyelids fluttered closed, and a few minutes later his breath evened out fully. Rachel sighed and idly tipped her empty cup over, watching him sleep. His face was so relaxed, she hadn't realised it had been tense. Over his shoulder, then, she caught sight of a man standing a hundred yards or so off and her eyes went wide before narrowing. He was scowling at her and she made shooing motions with her hands, but he started walking toward her. Rachel shook her head and shooed him off, then gave him the finger, but he kept coming closer and she dug her phone out of her purse.

'If you come ANY closer, I SWEAR I'll kill you,' she texted. He paused to flip his phone open, and scowled at her message. 'I mean it, Bruce. Go away.'

'We need to talk,' was his reply.

'I'll call you later. Go away.'

She closed her phone, indicating the text message argument was over, and glared at him until he turned in a huff and stalked off. Then Rachel sighed and looked down at Jack, still asleep, his dark brown hair falling into his face. She started to reach over to brush it away, but stopped herself. She didn't know if it would wake him, and with Bruce still undoubtedly watching, it was petty besides.

After a while, though, she cleared her throat. "Jack?" He stirred a bit, but didn't open his eyes. Rachel reached her foot out to nudge his leg. "Jack, wake up."

"Mm?" He blinked and then rubbed his eyes, yawning. Rachel smiled at it, then he looked up at her and yawned again. "Time to go?" he asked.

"Yeah," she replied.

"I didn't mean to fall asleep," he said by way of apology as he stood, then helped her stand.

"It's all right," Rachel assured him as they headed back toward his apartment. They were both content with silence, until they were at his front door and Jack cleared his throat.

"You know . . . if you bring your burrito tomorrow, I'll tease you about it."

It was an invitation back and Rachel kept her smile small. "I'd hate to miss out on that," she said lightly. Jack raised his eyes to her and an even smaller smile crept along his face, but it was there. "Have a good night, Jack."

"You too . . . Rachel."


	4. Chapter 4

He was concentrating very hard on keeping still, but once in a while his lips would twitch, or his carefully-controlled breath would hitch, and Rachel's heart would thump a little faster. Sure, that scene in _Phenomenon_ had been romantic and all, but Rachel had never experienced for herself how such a simple act could be so damned arousing. She'd talked it over with Dr. Morgenson, and knew already that she was mostly reacting to the need to comfort Jack, to take away some of his loneliness and loss, but it was still a pain in the ass. It was the 'mostly' that irritated her. Jack had confronted her at the door, demanding to know if she thought he was ugly. She'd replied, truthfully if a bit reluctantly, that no, she didn't. He'd started in on his scars --- the smile and the three that Batman had given him --- and she'd simply told him to go into the bathroom for the shave that they hadn't gotten around to the previous day. Her not putting up with his fit had distracted him, and the Chipotle bag she'd held up had calmed him almost entirely.

So now here she was, shaving her best friend's arch-nemesis, turning him on in the process, and resisting the urge to caress his cheek after each stroke of the razor. Rachel sighed and Jack's eyelids fluttered open to watch her, but she kept her gaze attentively trained on what she was doing. She was working along his scars and tilted his head up and to the side to get him into better light. It was trust, she reminded herself. He trusted her to do this. He trusted her not to pull away, not to give any reaction that he might take as negative, and he trusted her not to touch him longer than she needed to. He was chewing on the inside of his right cheek while she worked on his left, and once she was done there all that was left was his throat.

Rachel leaned to the left to rinse the razor off, and turned around when she felt his hand on her hip. He was watching her, and the desire in his eyes was mingled with need. Rachel licked her lips and swallowed as she tilted his head back with a forefinger to his chin.

"If you'd like," she said casually as she bent down a bit and drew the razor from the base of his throat to his chin, "I'll give you a hug after this."

He didn't say anything, but his hand on her hip clenched briefly before dropping back into his lap. He tilted his head to the side as she took one last swipe along the side of his neck and let his breath out in a long sigh, breathing more normally while she wiped his face and neck free of shaving cream. Rachel smiled gently and rinsed the razor off, shaking it dry before putting it back in the plastic bag in her purse. Then she knelt between Jack's knees and he cracked his eyes open. She opened her arms a bit, and he responded by slowly leaning forward until his forehead rested in the crook of her neck. Rachel wrapped her arms around his shoulders and held him, and after a moment or two his own arms snaked around her, his grip gradually tightening until Rachel was finding it difficult to breathe. His breath became labored, and she wasn't sure if it was tears or desire.

"I'm sorry," Jack whispered. "I hate myself for wanting you right now."

She sighed as she started kneading tense muscles. She didn't have a good reply.

"I always wanted you," he continued, and Rachel didn't pull away.

"Jack . . ." He shook his head and squeezed until she squeaked. Her fingers curled at the base of his neck and she sighed.

"The funeral's on Sunday."

Rachel nodded as she thought about his statement. He seemed to pose questions in the form of statements, and he wasn't clarifying the day of the funeral.

"Would you like me to be there?"

He pressed his face closer to her and took a deep breath in. "Mm." Rachel was learning to be patient and let him talk in his own time. "O'Hara will be there. Her parents hate me. I think I killed their dog, or cat, or something. You changed before coming over."

Rachel rested her cheek against his temple and nodded. "I did change. Jeans and a t-shirt are more comfortable. What time should I be here?"

"It starts at two."

"Is one all right?"

". . . Sure."

Rachel ran her fingers through Jack's hair and gently made him look up at her. She smiled at him. "So . . . I was leaning down at work today, and ripped my pants." His eyebrows shot up. "I don't want to pay thirty bucks to have them fixed. Can you help?"

Jack started to smile. "Sure." It was said more confidently, and he stood and pulled her up with him. Rachel couldn't help but stiffen from being held tightly against him while he was still partially aroused, and he pushed her away gently. His cheeks were red as he headed out the bathroom door. ". . . Sorry."

Rachel sighed and rinsed her face off, staring into the mirror. Bruce would kill her if he found out the attraction Jack had for her was mutual. If he ever spoke to her again, after their argument last night. He'd yelled, and she'd screamed, and she'd be lucky he didn't start a smear campaign when she ran for D.A. again.

"I told you you'd get fat eating those burritos," Jack called from the living room.

"That's not why they ripped!" she yelled back, pushing away and poking her head out the door. Jack looked up from where he sat cross-legged, her pants in one hand and a sewing kit by his side.

"If I believe you, will you help with my castle?" he asked, gesturing to the previous day's project.

Rachel heaved a sigh of long-suffering, but she was smiling as she sat next to him on the floor. "Yeah, I'd love to."

His smile was smug as Jack went to work.

center***/center

Rachel knocked at quarter till one, and it was Hideki who answered. His tie was looped around his neck, and he gave her a sheepish grin as he held to door open.

"Uh, hi, Ms. Dawes."

"Hello, Hideki. Is Jack here?"

"Uh, yeah."

"Rachel!" Jack came bounding into the living room, grabbing Rachel and swinging her up and around. She cried out, startled, and he set her down to give her a massive bear hug before pushing her away and holding out his own tie. "We're hopeless, Rachel. Help us!"

It was a nervous sort of mania and Hideki just shook his head slightly at her questioning look. "He's right," the lawyer confirmed. "We can't tie ties worth crap."

"Maybe crap," Jack put in as he pulled Rachel closer and squeezed her waist. "But nothing better."

"All right, all right, let me go and I'll help." She glared at the two men and they hung their heads like errant children. Rachel took Jack's tie from him and flipped his collar up, lips pursed as she worked.

"Don't worry," he offered helpfully, "this isn't like shaving." Rachel just sighed and he snorted with amusement. He was watching her as she turned to help Hideki. "They can't stop me from being there, right?"

Rachel was about to ask what he was talking about when Hideki answered. "No. They legally can't do a thing about you being there, and since Harleen was your wife, you have every right to attend. It's supposed to be a private funeral, but the press will probably be there anyway."

Jack flicked his tongue over his lips and shifted his eyes between the two of them. "That's why I have you two with me," he decided with a nod. "How do I look?"

"Good."

"Handsome."

Both men turned to Rachel in surprise and she didn't even blink. "Are we going or not?" She started out the door, and they scrambled to follow her.

"You think I'm handsome?" Jack murmured as they walked to the elevator.

"Shut up," she murmured back. "Dr. Morgenson will be there, too."

"You're avoiding my question."

Rachel kept her chin high and didn't look at him. "That's right, I am."

"Well, so long as you're not denying it."

They took Hideki's car, Jack sitting in the back while Rachel sat up front. He kept shifting, fiddling with his suit, rolling his window up and down, and making a general nuisance of himself. Rachel and Hideki ignored him, though, letting him get the jitters from his system.

As they pulled up to the funeral home, a group of Jewish men turned to watch them. Hideki and Rachel got out, then she had to open Jack's door and coax him out, as well.

"Christ, that's her father," he muttered, looking like a trapped animal as a wiry rabbi strode over, not looking pleased.

"You showed up." Before Jack could answer, then man's lips pursed. "Thank you."

"Uh . . . yeah. Mr. Quinzel, this is Mr. O'Hara, and Ms. Dawes. Uh. They're D.A.'s. Uh."

"Mr. Quinzel, I'm sorry for your loss," Hideki said smoothly as he held his hand out.

It was grasped firmly as Harleen's father looked the two lawyers over. "Thank you. Ever been to a Jewish funeral? I know Harleen wasn't practicing, but she's still getting one." He said it like he thought the trio would protest, but Hideki just shook his head. "You, Ms. Dawes?"

"No, sir," Rachel answered.

"Well, it'll be educating." He gestured for them to follow him. "We were just waiting for you. May as well get it over with; Jews like their dead in the ground. Jack, after the eulogy you'll come with the family. Ms. Dawes, Mr. O'Hara, you'll need to follow with the non-family guests."

Rachel touched Jack's arm gently and winced at the tension humming through him. He obviously wasn't prepared to face Harleen's family, and Rachel knew from experience that Jews often had the tendency to exclude others, and from the few dinners she'd had with a Jewish friend in college, she knew it could be extremely off-putting. Not to mention that Harleen's family didn't like him, anyway.

They filed into the parlor and took the seats Rabbi Quinzel gestured them to. Jack's head was lowered and his hands were clenched as the service began. Rabbi Quinzel cleared his throat and started tearing black ribbons, walking up and down the aisles and handing them out to family members. He hesitated briefly before offering one to Jack, and Rachel took it for him with a nod, carefully pinning it to his lapel.

Once back to the front of the room, Harleen's father cleared his throat and began recite a psalm; Rachel couldn't remember which on it was. After, he took a deep breath. "It's never easy," he started, "burying your own child. Harleen was . . . she was the light of my life. I'd always wanted a boy to raise, and I thought I would be devastated if I had a girl, but as soon as they handed her to me in the hospital, I wondered how I ever could have wished for a boy when that little angel was everything I'd ever wanted." He paused, looking over the gathering. "We didn't talk much, these last few years. She . . . made some choices we didn't approve of, but she was . . . she was happy with those choices, and I wish we'd been able to become happy with them, as well, before we lost her." Jack looked up at his father-in-law, surprise on his weary face, and the man nodded. "We've lost a good friend, a wonderful daughter, and a loving wife. She'll be remembered fondly, and missed dearly."

He stepped back, and started reciting the 23rd Psalm as a group of men stood up to pick up the simple pine casket. Everyone stood as they walked down the aisle, Harleen's family following, and her father paused for a moment to let Jack out of his seat. Rachel got a nervous glance and nodded encouragingly as she and Hideki waited with Harleen's friends until they could leave, too.

"Will you two be coming with Jack to the cemetery?" Rabbi Quinzel asked once everyone was outside. Jack was staring at the hearse as Harleen's casket was loaded into it, and people were offering condolences to Harleen's immediate family. Well, all of them but Jack.

Rachel nodded. "Is that allowable?"

"Of course. Plot 336."

"Thank you. Jack?" Rachel called. He jerked and turned to her, and she walked to him and took his hand. "Are you going with Rabbi Quinzel?" She got a slight nod and squeezed his hand. He returned the grip almost desperately. "Hideki and I will meet you there, all right?"

She barely heard his reply. ". . . Sure."

Rachel sighed and gave him a quick hug before walking back to Hideki's car. Once at the cemetery, they waited with the other mourners until the hearse pulled up. The group of men carried it to the grave, stopping seven times to recite another Psalm. They lowered the coffin into the grave and then Rabbi Quinzel picked up a handful of dirt and tossed it onto the casket. The red-eyed woman beside him did the same, and Jack followed suit without being prompted. Once the immediate family members were done, Harleen's father recited the Psalm again, then something in Hebrew. Rachel and Hideki followed the non-family members in forming two lines, silent as the other started reciting something.

"Hamakom y'nachem etchem b'toch sh'ar availai tziyon ee yerushalayim."

Everyone was lined up to wash their hands, and after that the funeral seemed to be over. Jack was back at Rachel's side, hands grasping her shirt as they shook. Rabbi Quinzel walked over and frowned a bit.

"We've already sat Shiva," he said, and explained at three blank looks. "It's a mourning period. It's supposed to happen after the funeral, but with the police involved . . ." He sighed and looked at Jack. "I'm sorry we didn't tell you, Jack."

The man shrugged, not looking up from Rachel's shoulder. "You don't like me. I understand."

"We should have at least respected what we knew Harleen would have wanted. We'll be sitting Shiva for one more day at our home. You're welcome to come over."

"No, I'm not," Jack said firmly. "You don't want me around."

The Rabbi was silent. Then, "Be that as it may, it'll start tomorrow at noon if you want to come over."

". . . I'll think about it." The two men stood there, uneasy, until Jack looked at Rachel. "I've gotta go."

"Of course," Rabbi Quinzel said. He shook hands with Rachel and Hideki, then hesitantly offered his hand to Jack. The man took it reluctantly and then let it go after a moment. "Call us if you need anything."

". . . Yeah." He slid into the backseat and looked up at Rachel beseechingly. She and Hideki offered last condolences and said their goodbyes, and after a moment's hesitation she slid in next to Jack. As soon as the door closed he fell over into her lap, grabbing her knees and shaking his head as he shuddered.

"Mr. Napier? Are you all right?" Hideki asked as he pulled out.

Rachel shook her head as she ran her fingers through the man's hair. "It's just stress," she murmured. "I'm so sorry you had to go through that, Jack."

"I hate people," he groaned. "I hate people so much. I never want to talk to them or look at them or _think_ of them again . . ."

Rachel smiled gently, heart aching for him as he gradually quieted down and stopped wriggling around. "Who will tease me about my burritos if you do that?" she asked after a while.

"You're not a person," was the muffled reply. "You don't count."

She laughed. "What am I, then?"

". . . my friend."

Rachel leaned over and cradled Jack's head in her arms until they were back at his apartment.

center***/center

"_. . . All their voices can be heard, long past their woodland days . . ."_

Rachel swayed around the kitchen as she sang softly with the song, rolling her hips in half-forgotten belly dancing circles as she moved. Laughter from the doorway made her stop and twirl around, and she glared at Jack as he leaned against the door jam and watched her.

"What are _you_ laughing about?" she asked sharply. "Aren't you supposed to be setting the table?"

He shrugged, one side of his mouth pulling up into a smirk as he waved one hand languidly at her. "Good food, good show . . . with so much _good_ stuff in _here_, how do you expect me to stay out _there_?"

He was leering at her and she waved her knife at him, realising only when his eyebrows went up and he bit his lower lip slowly what exactly she held in her hand. She slammed it down as she blushed and he laughed again.

"Out! Out, damned creep!" He guffawed at her Shakespeare reference and ducked out before she could throw something at him, and Rachel turned back to the cutting board with a racing heart. She was still giggling, though the few times Jack had come on to her always made her heart flip-flop for a few minutes after she made him stop. He wasn't serious, _per se_, though if she actually responded she didn't think he'd mind. He was lonely for someone's touch, that was all. She sighed as she continued slicing the honeydew she'd brought for dessert, then jumped when his hands appeared on her upper arms. He rested his chin on her left shoulder, looking at her out of the corner of his eyes.

"Sorry," he murmured, but the smile still on his face betrayed the lie of that statement. He was breathing her perfume in deeply, and held her tightly against him. "Mmm, you smell like woman . . ."

Rachel swallowed and shook her head. "Good; the surgery was a complete success, then."

He drew back in surprise, then laughed a little before returning his chin to her shoulder.

Rachel shifted. "Jack . . ."

"Table's set," he told her as he stepped back. "I'll put the food out."

Rachel dumped the honeydew into a bowl and sighed as she carried it out to the dining room. Jack had the spaghetti set out, the steamed broccoli on a second pad beside it, and he held her chair out for her after she set the honeydew down.

"Thank you."

"My pleasure." He seated himself across from her at the square table, uncorking the bottle of red wine Rachel had brought, pouring two glasses. He tilted his head and raised his glass in a silent toast, and Rachel returned it with an answering smile. "Anything exciting happen today?"

He tended to eat a little slouched over his food, as if he was afraid that someone might steal it, and rolled his dark eyes up to watch Rachel. She took a sip of wine to wash her broccoli down and shook her head. "Settled a few cases ---"

"Yay for the good guys," Jack murmured.

"--- but nothing extraordinary happened." She leaned her chin on her hand and grinned at him. "That girl at Jamba ask you out yet?"

"Oh, Christ," he groaned, making a face as he sat back. Still, one hand kept hold of his plate. "Told her I was seeing someone."

Rachel raised an eyebrow. "You could have just told her it's too soon, you know."

He rolled his eyes at her. "And then she'll ask again in another six months," he growled. Rachel ignored the pull at her stomach. "No, I told her I was seeing someone and she left. Foosh was laughing at the whole thing." He stabbed his spaghetti as Rachel laughed, too.

"Well, seeing that poor woman try to corner you for the past few weeks _has_ been fun to watch."

"_You_ are _not helping_," Jack grouched. "I can't _believe_ I've spent the last six months letting you laugh at me over dinner."

"No," Rachel drawled, "only the last two."

"Right. You waited until I started feeling better to cut me down."

He ignored her, or spoke in monosyllables, when he was truly upset, so Rachel continued to chuckle to herself as they ate. Jack was twirling his wine glass in his hand, watching her over the top of it with a slight sort of smile on his lips. He'd taken his wedding band of a few weeks ago, but it sat on his nightstand, next to the one picture of him and Harleen that he kept out.

"So, what about you?"

"Hm?" Rachel raised her eyebrows as she dabbed at her lips with her napkin.

"Are you . . . seeing anyone?"

Rachel's heart thumped with the way he was looking at her, the tone of his voice, and she took a moment to straighten up and take a breath before reply primly, "No, not at the moment." She took a sip of wine as he arched his eyebrows quickly, still smirking. "What?"

Jack turned back to his food. "Nothing."

Rachel rolled her eyes. "You can be a real asshole, you know."

She got a shrug. "Sorry. Comes naturally." He finally looked at her. "I finished that drawing."

Rachel's eyes lit up. "Really? May I see it?"

He laughed at her eagerness. "Finish your dinner."

"Jack, come on . . ."

"No, I'm serious, Rachel. Finish dinner and I'll show it to you."

She tucked into her food with gusto, which prompted more laughter as Jack ate at a more sedate pace. They'd been having dinner together weekly for the past six months, Tuesday and Thursday nights, and once in a while another night if one or the other was exceptionally bored. It had helped Jack transition to living alone, even though the look on his face when Rachel left tore her heart up. He hated being alone. Dr. Morgenson had upped some of his medications, and that had helped a little, but he also hated his medications. There were nights when Rachel would go to hug him goodbye and find herself still in his arms an hour later, quietly running her hands through his hair until he was ready to let her go.

Once they were done, Rachel started clearing the dishes while he rummaged in his art material, pulling out a large drawing pad and flipping it open. He waited while she filled the dishwasher, and then she sat next to him on the couch.

"Don't laugh, all right?" he asked nervously.

Rachel smiled at him. "Jack, you're a wonderful artist. I'm not going to laugh." He stared at her. "All right, I promise. I won't laugh."

Shaking his head with a sigh, Jack turned the picture toward Rachel. His lips twitched as her breath caught in her throat.

"Jack, this is gorgeous . . ."

"Narcissistic, much?" he asked with a grin.

Rachel shook her head, tracing her fingers just above the charcoal drawing of her. "Shut up, Jack, I mean it." She'd been standing at the balcony doors, one hand pressed against the glass when he'd suddenly ordered her to not move a muscle. Five minutes later he'd let her move, but refused to show her the picture. She was standing on an iceberg, staring at her distorted reflection in the huge block of ice, hand pressed against it. Her gloves and dress were a black that seemed to be sucking up the white of the iceberg, with a low, scooped back, and she was criss-crossed with pearls. They hung from her neck, across her back, off of her shoulders, eerily reminiscent of icicles. Her hair was swept up loosely on top of her head, curls trailing down the sensuous curve of her neck, and the entire picture faded into the paper at the edges.

She stared at her picture's forlorn look, then turned her gaze to a serious Jack. "Did I really look this sad?" she asked.

He nodded. "Yeah."

Rachel turned back to the picture. "Jack, you could sell this."

"What?! No!" He grabbed it back from her and held it to his chest protectively. "I'm not selling it!"

Rachel jumped and placed her hand on her heart, then moved it to his knee as he shook his head. "Well, all right, not _ithat/i_ one, but some of your others . . . you've got a lot of talent, Jack."

"No," he said shortly. "I'm not selling my art."

Rachel was quiet, then sighed. "All right. I'm sorry, Jack. I didn't mean to upset you."

He gave her a hard stare, almost glaring, then turned and set the picture down on the side table. Turning back, he launched himself at Rachel and she shrieked as she fell back, Jack's face pressed against her stomach as he laughed. His arms had slid around her waist and he squeezed tightly.

"_Jack_! You _asshole_!" Rachel squirmed, but he just slid up and tilted his head at her, his hair brushing her cheek. Rachel made a face and pressed her hands to his chest. "Get off of me."

"You're funny when you squirm," he told her, hand creeping to her side.

"Jack, don't you dare! No! Aiyayayayayayayaaaaaa!" Rachel hollered as he dug his knuckles into her ribs. She bucked and heaved, trying to throw him off of her, but he just howled with laughter as he continued his attack. He kept tickling her until she was turning purple from lack of breath and thought she'd wet herself any moment, then he flopped back down on top of her, gasping for breath and resting his head just under her chin. She ran her fingers though his hair as her other hand rubbed his back, and he grunted softly in appreciation. "Jack . . ." she whispered.

He clenched his hands against her back, his nails digging lightly through her shirt and to her skin as he sighed. "You're beautiful," he murmured.

Rachel's heart clenched. She knew what he was saying, and she'd been giving it serious thought over the past few months, but she couldn't give him what he wanted from her. He was a wonderful man, and she really cared for him, but the field day the press would have if the D.A. --- if _she_ --- was dating the ex-Joker made her shudder. Rachel wanted to hold him, kiss away the pain he carried, hold his hand in public . . . but that was a line she couldn't let herself cross.

"You're going to fall asleep if you don't move," she told him in as normal a voice as possible.

Jack sighed and pushed himself up, brushing his hair out of his face as he looked down at her. Rachel scootched up until she was sitting, then playfully hit him in the shoulder. "I've got an early case tomorrow, Jack. Lunch at Mezzotti's?"

He let her get up and gather her purse and shoes. "Sure."

Rachel turned at the door and hugged him fiercely, startling him. "Goodnight, Jack."

He rolled his eyes as he closed the door. "Goodnight."


	5. Chapter 5

"Rachel, so good to see you."

"Bruce!" Rachel whirled around in her seat and felt her face go pale. "What are you doing here?"

"Just bought the place next door," her old friend said easily. "Mind if I sit down? Waiting for someone?" He gestured at the second peach tea on the table as he smoothly commandeered the empty chair it sat in front of. "Haven't seen you in a few months, Rachel. I missed you."

Rachel pursed her lips and glanced at her watch. Jack should be here any minute. "So, what, you're here to apologise for effectively calling me a traitorous slut?"

Bruce's eyebrow twitched and he frowned. "Well . . . I guess I am." He rubbed the back of his neck and had the decency to look embarrassed. "I think we obviously disagree on Napier's sanity," and he ignored Rachel's snort at the understatement, "but . . . I'm sorry, Rach. I'm just worried about you."

"Thank you, Bruce," Rachel said with sincerity. "I'm sorry I lost my temper with you."

"Yeah, well, Alfred gave me the worst talking-to I've had from him in _years_. I figured, if I didn't want to be poisoned slowly, I'd better apologise." He grinned as Rachel laughed. "What are you doing tonight? If I don't bring you to dinner, I _will_ be dead in the morning."

Rachel tucked her hair behind her ear and stood as a familiar figure slouched around the corner. "I'm free, and tell Alfred I'd love to come over. What time? I'm sorry to rush you, but my friend will be here soon . . ."

Bruce's lips pursed, but he stood up and hugged her. "Eight's good. Give us some time to catch up. Can't have Napier monopolising _all_ your nights," he murmured.

"It's only twice a week, Bruce," Rachel whispered in his ear as she returned his hug. "I'll be there at eight."

Her friend smiled sadly at her. "You look so much happier these days," he said simply, then kissed her forward before heading back to his new restaurant.

Rachel watched Bruce until he disappeared inside the building, then turned back to Jack with a smile as he walked up. She held her hand out and he took it, then she pulled him into one of the man-hugs she'd always teased Harvey about.

"How are you, Jack?" she asked in his ear.

He stiffened a little before returning the hug. "I'm fine. Was that Bruce Wayne?"

Rachel flushed a little and nodded. "Yes."

"You know him?"

He was watching her carefully, and Rachel hurried to assure him that his suspicion that there was a romance between her and Bruce was far from the truth.

"We've been friends since we were kids. He was just apologising for being a jerk the other day."

"He's handsome."

"He's a total playboy," Rachel returned. "_Not_ my type."

That mollified Jack, and he sat and reached for his tea. "You ordered already?"

She nodded. "Same as last time. It should be out soon . . . are you all right?" He was rubbing his eyes, and he looked exhausted.

"Uh, yeah. Insomnia."

"Again?" Rachel reached her hand out and covered his briefly, and his lips twitched as he shrugged.

"Eh, it comes and goes." He flicked his dark gaze up at the waitress as she brought their food out and Rachel thanked her. "Do you really like the picture?" he asked quietly after a few bites.

The memory of it brought a smile to Rachel's face as Jack stared at their hands, still side-by-side on the table after she'd touched him. "I love it, Jack."

He nodded, smiling back at her just a little. He was conscious of the way his scars twisted his smiles, so he saved the real ones for private. "Good." He cleared his throat and spoke at a normal volume. "Your friend Charles called me."

Rachel's eyebrows went up. "You actually answered an unexpected call? I'm proud of you, Jack."

He flushed at her approving smile and shrugged. "I wasn't expecting him to be a her. It got me curious."

"Still, that's great. Did you work anything out?"

He raised his gaze from their close-set fingers to her eyes, nodding. "Yeah. Yeah, thirty an hour under the table, under her supervision. She'll go over everything I do, and if I screw up she breaks my neck. Great deal we've got."

Rachel laughed and slid her hand under his, squeezing as their fingers entwined. His breath hitched and he cleared his throat, but Jack didn't move his hand away. He returned the pressure gently, his smile widening a bit as he ate left-handed. It was an easier task than Rachel would have had; Jack was completely ambidextrous. They continued eating in silence, content to let their fingers linger together as they enjoyed the sun and the company.

"Uh . . . Harleen and I never ate out," Jack said as Rachel was signing the bill.

She raised her eyebrows. "Really? Why not?"

He shrugged. "Cheaper for me to cook, I guess. But this is nice. Thank you."

He was slowly losing the hesitant pauses in his speech, and Rachel pulled him into a hug. "It's no problem at all, Jack." She tensed a little and closed her eyes when he nuzzled the side of her neck gently, then pulled away with another smile. "I'll bring the second season of Scrubs on Tuesday, all right?"

"Yeah, sure."

"Okay, then." Rachel gave him another hug as he picked his iced tea up. "Have a good day."

"I will. You, too." He gritted his teeth as he watched her turn and hurry across the street, and after a moment there was a barely audible icrunch/i as hairline fractures blossomed around his glass of tea. Jack set the cup down without looking and headed to his two o'clock meeting.

center***/center

Eight o'clock found Rachel sitting in Bruce's parlor, a glass of sherry in her hands as she laughed with him and Alfred about one of her trials that day.

"I, I feel so _bad_ for laughing," Rachel gasped, "but after Smith suggested her _outfit_ was the reason she got raped, the girl looked at him and asked ---" She had to set her glass down, she was laughing so hard. "She, she told him 'Well, gee, if Donald didn't _want_ me to stab him eight times, sir, why'd he rape me? He was _obviously_ asking for it!' Oh, God . . ." She wiped her eyes. "She's so cute, she is . . . she's just so _outraged_ by all the bullshit!"

Alfred set down some appetizers as Rachel got a hold of herself, and Bruce idly nibbled on one of the spring rolls. "So . . . what was the outcome?"

"Oh, we won. The judge ruled that it was self-defense, and that under the circumstances, eight stab wounds didn't count as aggravated assault. I tell you, Hideki is a_ma_zing. The judges love him."

"Isn't he the the one you had dinner with last night?" Bruce asked.

Rachel licked her lips and shook her head. "No, that was a different friend."

She didn't miss the significant look Alfred gave Bruce, nor the mimed poisoning of his sherry, and Bruce settled back into the couch. "I'm glad you're doing good," he said, "and I'm sorry we haven't seen much of each other lately." He glanced at Alfred briefly. "You look . . . happy, Rach. Really happy."

_He_ didn't look happy about it, and Rachel's heart pounded as she licked her lips and tried to brush it off. "What's not to be happy about?" she asked lightly. "Crime's down, we're having a beautiful summer, I've honed my team to the best lawyers in the state, and I'm surrounded by good friends." She smiled at him before slapping his thigh. "Do you want me to crash my car? A little fender-bender? Would that make you happy?"

Her friend laughed as he shook his head. "No, because I don't want to spend the money on repairing it and try to hide it from you at the same time." He'd slid his arm around her shoulders and Rachel leaned into his embrace.

"Oh, right. I forgot the world revolves around Bruce Wayne."

He laughed into her hair and she knew she was happier these days because of Jack, and she knew _he_ knew that, and that it bothered him. It was bothering Rachel less and less. There had been a few off days when she'd been afraid that Jack might throw something at her out of sheer frustration, but those days were fewer and farther between, and she'd learned to deal with his occasional tantrums and redirect his ire into less violent venues. Dr. Morgenson had remarked the previous month that Jack was calmer and more stable than he'd ever been, and the heavy silence that had followed that remark had been full of questions Rachel wasn't ready to answer. He'd moved on to inquire about her own social life away from Jack, assuring himself that she was getting adequate exposure to the rest of the world. Rachel hadn't brought it up to Jack yet, but Dr. Morgenson had also suggested he might enjoy a night on the town with her, dinner and dancing, perhaps. It hadn't escaped Rachel's notice that the psychiatrist had stopped specifying his suggested outings as non-romantic the previous month.

"I'm sorry, Rachel," Bruce whispered.

"What for?" she asked as she looked up at him.

"I'm sorry I couldn't be what you needed."

Her heart clench and Rachel touched her friend's jaw gently. "Oh, Bruce . . . I'm so sorry . . ."

It was the only thing she could think to say before Alfred came back in to announce dinner. Bruce shook himself and stood, pulling Rachel up with him and escorting her to the private dining room that was reserved for more intimate dinners. The table sat up to six, and their places were across from each other in the middle. Bruce was on a Japanese and Korean kick, and sushi was mingled with chapchae and fried rice. There was shrimp tempura udon --- a favourite of Rachel's --- and bulgogi, with at least two varieties of tea to go with the meal.

"Geez, Bruce, did you hire chefs from overseas or something?"

"As a matter of fact," he said with that charming smile of his as he held her chair out for her, "I did. Oh, it's part of the new restaurant; stop looking at me like that." He sat across from her and leaned back as Alfred served them. "Until the place is up and running, they're training the other cooks here."

Rachel snorted. "How generous of you."

"I like to think I got the better end of the bargain." He leaned forward and grinned at her. "Rachel, you _do_ remember what I told you last year, don't you? About my restaurants and hotels?"

She took a sip of her tea --- brown, with extra sugar in it --- and didn't meet his gaze as she nodded. "Sure, I remember."

"Well, the offer still stands. I'm not going to make my best and oldest friend pay at a place that I own." He picked up his chopsticks and snagged a piece of sushi, talking around it much like Jack tended to do when he was excited about the dinner conversation. "Shee, mm, see, you need to get out more. I know, I know, you eat dinner with friends, but you need to get _out_ out more."

Rachel was blushing at the comparison between her friend and Jack. "Bruce, I ---"

"I'm not saying you need to be the life of the town, Rachel, but . . ." He trailed off and stared down at his bowl of udon, then looked back up at her. "I miss seeing you around."

Rachel had pretty much stopped being social after Harvey's death. She'd made the needed rounds, of course, to assure friends and family that she was all right, and then when she'd run for District Attorney there had been parties and fund raisers to attend as well. Beyond that, though, she hadn't been able to bring herself to seek out new friendships and romances. She'd had two relationships in the last six years, and they'd just reminded her of why she hated dating, why she'd been so glad she'd found Harvey.

And now she was physically and romantically attracted to Harvey's killer. God, she had to be twisted to let _that_ happen. How _had_ it happened? He'd been so broken in the interrogation room, his wife dead, certain he would be thrown back in jail for a something he hadn't done. Now, six months later, he was laughing more freely, answering unexpected phone calls, venturing out of his daily routine . . . true, Jack still found some disturbing things to be hilarious, but she had to admit that sombreros _were _funny, and he made a visible effort to not laugh at things like blind babies and AIDS around her. He could be a real asshole at times, but she'd subjected him to the waitress test and approved of the results. His mood swings and tantrums were something she could easily deal with, by removing herself from the room or talking him down to a more clear-headed state. Sometimes she could see a frighteningly familiar shadow in his eyes, but the moment he realised he was unnerving her, he'd withdraw into himself until he had control of his inner demons once again.

"I wish I could make you smile like that." Bruce's voice interrupted her thoughts and Rachel's eyes went wide as she blushed. Her friend --- her first love --- was watching her wistfully.

Rachel dipped some shrimp tempura into her soup broth and took a quick bite to both cover her embarrassment and give her time to think. Daydreaming about the former Joker while eating dinner with Batman was just idiotic. _Especially _when Bruce _knew_ who it was putting this smile on her face.

She cleared her throat. "So, uhm . . . your Vegas trip, when's that, again? Or did I miss it?"

Bruce slurped the chapchae like it was spaghetti as he shook his head. "It's next month. Want to come with me? You could use a vacation."

Rachel laughed as she shook her head. "I'd love to Bruce, I would, but I have so much going on at work right now that I can't leave."

Bruce shrugged as he crunched on his tempura. "Suit yourself."

"You're such a baby," she scolded him. "You are _not_ going to guilt-trip me into abandoning my job for a week of gambling!"

"There's _lots_ to do in Vegas other than gamble," Bruce defended himself.

One delicately shaped eyebrow arch. "Oh? Tell me _one. _Something _legal._"

He thought about it, then pursed his lips. "You can _eat._"

"I can eat in Gotham! For free, if I crash one of _your_ joints!"

"See the sights?"

Rachel laughed. "That's _not_ going to take me a whole week, Bruce."

He chewed the inside of his lip, another gesture reminiscent of Jack. "Buy things?"

She sat back and crossed her arms over her chest as she gave him a stern look. "Like _what_?"

"Hotels?"

"_Bruce_"

"What?" he asked innocently, grinning at her. "Hotels are fun to buy, Rachel."

She shook her head and rubbed her temples before going for the last piece of edamame. "Bruce, you _know _I don't have enough money to buy a Vegas hotel. _ Any_ hotel, for that matter."

"It's not _my_ fault your parents weren't rich," he sniffed. "No need to take it out on _me._" They laughed for a few moments, then Bruce took the last sip of his tea. "No, really, let me know when you have a week free and we'll go somewhere. Anywhere," he added, anticipating her next question. "My treat."

Rachel popped her last bit of sushi into her mouth and chewed for a moment before nodding. "All right. All right, fine, I'll check my schedule and see if I can't squeeze in a free week. No promises," she admonished him, waving her chopsticks at warningly.

Bruce leaned back and folded his hands across his chest, smug. "Understood," he nodded.

"Although," Rachel said, "if you wanted to treat me, you could always buy me stock in Jamba Juice."

Bruce stared at her, then rolled his eyes. "Uh . . . yeah. I'll think about it."

She was still laughing when Alfred cleared the plates away.

center***/center

Rachel was exhausted as she climbed the steps to her apartment building. Bruce had convinced her to stay longer than she'd intended, watching campy old movies, and her watch read two-thirty-four when she pressed the elevator button. She was glad it had gotten fixed the previous day; walking up ten stories of stairs was _not_ on her list of things to do at the moment. Or ever, really. God bless whoever invented elevators, truly.

Once safely ensconced in her apartment, Rachel pulled her clothes off and flopped back onto her bed, too tired to shower or even wash her face. It took all her strength to crawl under the covers and pull them tightly around her as she curled into a ball, idly brushing the fingers of one hand across her cheek as her thoughts returned to Jack. She had to admit, the way he looked at her when he thought she couldn't see was an ego boost. A more confident man would have begun to seriously try to get her in bed by this time, but for all of Jack's leering and innuendos, he was far too insecure to make a genuine move on her.

Not that Rachel minded. Her body warmed along with her sleepy thoughts and she wondered how it would feel to kiss him, to hold his face in her hands and feel his scars against her palms, how it would feel when he pressed into her touch, rather than pulling away from it. Was he a good lover? Rachel's heart skipped a beat and she smiled to herself as she stretched out, cuddling into her pillow and wondering, as she slipped into dreams, what Jack looked like without his shirt on . . .


	6. Chapter 6

Stretched out on the floor with his bare feet crossed, the sleeves of his shirt rolled up past his elbows, Jack looked the most relaxed that Rachel had ever seen him. She stared down at him, the last half of her burrito in her hand, and he stared back up with a slightly raised eyebrow.

"Yeeeees?" he drawled.

She took a small nibble and pointed. "I can see your belly-button."

The man raised his other eyebrow and idly scratched at his exposed skin, then dug his index finger around in his belly-button. "Huh. Proof that I had a mother."

Rachel frowned as she sat beside him. "Doesn't that _bother_ you?" she asked. "Not remembering?"

He was chewing and sucking on his lower lip as he shrugged. "I remember lots of things. I'm not sure which version is the real one, but at least I remember _something_." Then he propped himself up on one elbow and opened his mouth as he leaned toward her burrito.

"Hey!" Rachel snapped. She pulled her hand out of his reach and gave him a gentle thwack upside his head. "This is my lunch, you know."

He was rolling onto his hands and knees slowly, a grin spreading across his features as he kept his gaze on her food. "It's almost dinner."

"Which ought to tell you something about how busy my day's been, if I'm just now getting around to lunch. So back off." Rachel raised her arm above her head as he circled around her on his knees, sniffing the air like a bloodhound. He sniffed at her neck, his lips just barely touching her skin and Rachel shivered. That made him chuckle as he slid his hand up her arm, trying to gently force it down so he could take a bite of her food. "Jack!"

"I just want a _nibble_," he murmured in her ear.

"Jack, your _nibbles_ take at _least_ two regular mouthfuls." Rachel leaned to the side, away from his lips, but he followed her and pulled her back against his chest so she didn't tip over.

"I'll take a _real_ nibble, I promise." Rachel turned her head slightly to glare at him out of the corner of her eyes and he rubbed his cheek against hers with a purr. It was the first time, other than when she shaved him, that he'd willingly let her near his scars and Rachel's eyes widened. She'd expected them to be rough, and the texture was uneven to be sure, but the bumps were surprisingly smooth.

His purr intensified and Rachel dropped her head back against his shoulder. His scars were soft, much softer than his unblemished skin. She sighed and closed her eyes, tilting her head to the side as Jack rubbed his cheek along her neck, still keeping up his purr. He pulled her hands against her chest, and when he opened his mouth Rachel thought he was going to kiss her, but he tugged her burrito close and took a quick bite of it before letting her go, giggling around the small mouthful he'd gotten.

"See?" he giggled. "I kept my word!"

Rachel had to close her eyes to keep them from crossing and she fought the urge to rub her neck and cheek. It wasn't out of disgust, but he might take it that way. So she left her skin to tingle, and just smiled at him. He was making a face.

"Ugh, I forgot you get that vegetarian crap . . ."

She laughed and took her own bite. "Serves you right," she told him as he mimed gagging. "Taking my lunch when I'm starving. For shame."

"I don't feel shame."

The glint in his eyes, the tone of his voice, the look on his face . . . Rachel hadn't even finished stiffening before Jack was rolling over, crawling to the couch to grab the DVD remote off of it. He looked over his shoulder as her heart pounded, and a smirk spread across his face.

"Are you looking at my ass?"

"Huh?" Rachel glanced down, then blushed. "No!"

"Yes, you were," he insisted, wiggling said rump at her as he laughed.

He could be surprisingly feminine. Rachel rolled her eyes. "All right, fine, I _might_ have been wondering where you get your pants tailored."

Jack laughed again and returned to her side, laying down and resting his head in her lap. "You know I make my own clothes. Look, Rachel, it's all right. You can want me --- it's the schizophrenia. Us schizo's are just sooooo _irresistible_. We _ooze_ charm and charisma." He arched his neck, posing, batting his long eyelashes at her.

Rachel pinched his nose, which made him cross his eyes and shake his head. She laughed. "And your _massive_ ego has nothing to do with that statement, right?"

He gave her a wounded look. "_Me_? Have an _ego_? You're losing it, Rachel."

She grabbed his nose again and when he shook his head to free himself, Rachel's palm ended up along his cheek. Jack stopped squirming and grabbed her wrist when she tried to pull away. He held her steady as he turned his cheek into her palm, deliberately rubbing his scars against her skin. Rachel's breath hitched as his eyes rolled back in their sockets, a pained and wanton look on his features as she pressed her fingertips into his flesh, deliberately feeling him. Jack's lower lip trembled and he butted his cheek more forcefully into her touch with a slight groan.

It occurred to Rachel that maybe Harleen hadn't tried to overcome his aversion to his scars. She bit her own lip and left her burrito on the floor to raise her other hand to his cheeks, touching gently at first and waiting until he'd leaned into that contact as well before increasing the pressure of her fingers. Jack gasped silently at the heat of her hands, reaching his own arms up to curl around Rachel's shoulders and she shifted, laying his head gently on the floor and stretching out beside him. She leaned over him, heart pounding, and slid her thumb over the scar on his right cheek, the one that curled up. Her hair fell forward as she drew closer, and her breathing was loud in the space it created, Jack's startled and not unpleased gasp in her ear when her lips met the tip of the scar even louder. Rachel kissed around the scar, inside the crevice it created, up and over the bump of it, her lips never leaving his skin as she moved toward his mouth. She held his head still with her palm against his other cheek, his fingers digging into her back as she caressed the scar there, taking a moment to kiss the scar that split his lower lip and flick her tongue against it.

That prompted a strangled moan and he tried to keep her head there, to kiss her, but Rachel refused and Jack slid his hand down to her thigh, pressing the back of her knee and drawing her leg over his waist. He wanted her on top of him but she resisted again, slipping her tongue gently along the smaller scar, kissing gently until she'd gotten to the end of it. Her lips moved up and over his cheekbone, tracing the scars Bruce had given him, then she pulled back and brushed his bangs out of his eyes.

Jack stared up at her, mouth open as he drew in deep breaths and then he leaned up on one elbow, fingers curling in her hair as he brought his lips to hers. This time Rachel let him, a soft "Please . . ." escaping her lips as he eagerly kissed her and lowered her onto her back. Her body was reacting to his touch, reacting more strongly than it had in the last ten years, and Rachel wasn't able to keep from smiling as their tongues slipped into hesitant contact with one another. Her head rested on his forearm, his fingers grasping her shoulder while his other hand slid under her shirt. His trailed his nails along her stomach, grasping at her waist and humming appreciatively at the way it curved out into her hips.

Rachel was holding onto his shoulders with one arm, her other hand still tracing his scars lovingly. Jack pulled away and tilted his head back, mouth half-open and eyes half-shut, only the whites visible. After a moment he sank back down, holding Rachel tightly against him and panting into her hair as he kissed the top of her head. She curled in toward his chest, letting him take her hands and rain kisses along them, hearing him suppress a groan when his groin pressed against her leg. He pulled away from the contact and then took her face in his hands, kissing her firmly once, twice, three times before he rested his forehead against her collarbone. Rachel was amazed that he'd stopped and was obviously trying to pull himself together. She rubbed her hands up and down his back, against taut muscles, clenching his shirt in her hands as he swallowed sharply.

"That . . ." His voice broke and he coughed, a pleased moan coming from him when her questing hands found a particularly tense spot. "Rachel, I ---"

"Shhh," she whispered. "It's okay, Jack. It's okay."

He sat up and pulled her with him so they were sitting against the couch, fingers tracing his scars as he stared at her in wonderment. "No one's _ever_ done _anything_ like that before," he said softly.

Rachel smiled and covered his wandering hand with her own. He grasped her fingers as they curled in toward his palm, then covered them with kisses. His eyes were still cloudy with desire, pupils dilated above dark circles under his eyes even as he looked unsure, hopeful, and above all, like she was something incredibly amazing to him. Rachel swallowed.

"Jack, you're . . . you're so . . . just . . ."

She couldn't find the words and his mouth curled up into a half-smile as he pressed her hand to his chest, rubbing his thumb against her knuckles.

"I know," he murmured. "I know. I'm not good for you." She started to open her mouth to protest, started shaking her head but he squeezed her hand and laughed a little. "Still, would it be all right if . . . once in a while . . . I . . ." He leaned toward her with a questioning look, hand brushing her cheek, and Rachel tilted her head into his gentle and chaste kiss.

He sat back after a moment and Rachel sighed softly as he moved his hand to the back of her neck. She leaned her head back into the touch and closed her eyes.

"That would be just fine, Jack," she whispered. "Just fine." His fingers traced her pleased smile and she leaned into his shoulder as he settled next to her, breathing in the warm and comforting scent of him.

***

Rachel shifted her weight from foot to foot as she nodded to the Chipotle worker that yes, she wanted her usual meal. Jack had woken her up with soft kisses this morning, and she'd been surprised to find herself laying on his couch. Surprised, and well pleased. She didn't remember falling asleep against his shoulder, but he'd simply laid her down and taken her shoes off, then covered her with a blanket. She wasn't sure if he'd sat up all night with her, because he hadn't answered when she'd asked, but the look on his face as he watched her had been so pleased that she hadn't pressed for an answer. She'd groggily asked for the time and almost smashed her forehead into his nose as she'd sat up after he'd told her. It was later than she usually woke up, and she had farther to drive to get to work to boot. She was lucky she'd been able to snag breakfast.

After a hurried and apologetic kiss for nearly breaking his nose, she pulled her shoes on and explained that she was late. Jack had just nodded, a bit of unease in the downward pull of his lips. She'd given him her best smile and another kiss, gasping out an invitation to dinner at her place as he'd responded more forcefully than she'd expected. She'd wriggled out of his grasp as he'd accepted, and he'd still been reaching for her when she slipped out the door.

And now here she was, full of pent-up desire, slightly ashamed of what she'd done last night because she _knew_ she couldn't be with Jack, not like that, and then she was sitting at her desk and didn't remember getting there. Not paying for her meal, not the drive, not greeting her coworkers. All she could think about was Jack's lips, his arms around her, his body next to hers and those dark brown eyes that looked at her with such longing in them. She didn't know how she was going to get through the day.

"Rachel? Are you all right?"

She jerked around at Hideki's voice. "Ah! Oh! Hideki. I'm fine; what's wrong?"

The young lawyer frowned. "You've been staring out the window all day. Are you feeling well?"

No, no, she _wasn't_ feeling well. She had a burning ache between her legs that she couldn't ignore but couldn't _not_ ignore, because every time she shifted it sent sparks shooting through her body and brought Jack's name to her lips, and she did _not_ need to cry his name out at work, of all places, but she couldn't get _rid_ of her arousal, either, and ---

And Hideki was lifting her out of her chair, her purse in one hand. "All right, come on, you're going home."

"What? No! Hideki, I'm fine." Rachel jerked away and shook her head sharply. "I'm sorry, I didn't sleep well last night."

"Well, you're going home to get more rest. You're a mess, Rachel. Do you even _remember _your morning trials?"

Morning trials? Rachel looked at the clock and realised it was past one. And truthfully, no, she _didn't_ remember her morning trials.

"See what I mean?" Hideki shook a finger at her and took her by the elbow. "I'm taking Ms. Dawes home," he told her secretary as he pushed her office door open. Rachel was still weakly trying to protest, cheeks burning with the thought that she'd spaced out on her entire morning because she'd been torn between having erotic fantasies about Jack and wondering why she'd let things get out of hand.

She let her friend put her in her car and buckle her up, then she heard him call a cab company and request a ride from her apartment back to the D.A.'s office as he started the vehicle. She leaned her forehead against the window and groaned.

"I'm sorry, Hideki."

"Why? Everyone gets sick, Rachel. Some of us are just smart enough to not come to work when we do."

"Did I make a mess of my trials?" she asked softly.

"You were a little out of it, but that's what the A.D.A.'s are there for." He glanced over at her. "You're going to get some sleep, right?"

"Yeah," she grunted. "Sleep." Right after she came screaming Jack's name. Then she'd sleep. "Oh, God . . ."

"What?" Hideki asked, concerned.

"Jack's coming to dinner tonight."

"Are you well enough?" he asked with disapproval.

"I'll be fine, I'm just . . . shit . . ."

Hideki was quiet for a while before he spoke again. "Did he kiss you?" Rachel jerked around in surprise and Hideki nodded. "Well, that's no surprise." At her spluttering, he smiled slightly. "I haven't seen him in a while, now that he doesn't need legal representation, but from the way he used to look at you it was obvious he had the hots for you." He shrugged. "I just thought maybe he'd finally made a move."

Rachel swallowed past a dry throat as her heart constricted. "Hideki, you can _not_ let that slip ---"

"Hey, _I'm_ not the one mooning over you," he cut her off. "Tell Jack to keep his eyes in their sockets if you don't want people to know he wants you." He glanced at her and smiled to soften the words. "You're not his attorney, so what's wrong?"

Rachel hit her head against the window, exasperated. "He's an insane former criminal mastermind who tried to kill me and _did_ kill my fiance?" she asked. "In addition to murdering at least thirty people and terrorizing Gotham?

Hideki pursed his lips as he nodded. "Yeah, that'd make things difficult, but only if you returned the feelings." He glanced at her out of the corner of his eyes and smirked. "_Oh_. Then it _is_ a problem."

"You're fired," Rachel muttered as she squeezed her eyes shut.

"I'm too adorable to fire. Everyone likes an Irish-Japanese boy." His voice rose into a girlish lilt. "Boku was ka-wa-_ii_ de-_su_!"

Rachel had to laugh at him as she blindly punched his shoulder, and his faint "Ow!" made her laugh again. "Shut up. There's . . . more to it, but . . . look, just shut up, will you?"

He was laughing at her still, pulling into her apartment's parking garage. He found her spot with ease and parked the car, turning to her with a twinkle in his eyes. "Need help up to your apartment?"

Rachel shook her head as they pushed their doors open. "I'll be fine. Thank you, Hideki."

"No problem." He came around to hand her the car keys and hesitated before giving her a brief hug. "Can't have the D.A. in the throes of passion on her office desk, after all."

"Shut _up_!" Rachel yelled at him, and he laughed as he ducked her fist and sprinted toward the street.

"Have a good dinnerrrrrrr!" he called over his shoulder.

"You're a _jerk_, Hideki!" she screamed, but she was laughing as she stepped toward the elevator. The elevator ride was a tense one, but she'd let out some of her pent-up energy on Hideki, so her head was calming as she unlocked her apartment. She could trust him to keep quiet, Rachel mused as she flopped back on her bed without even taking her clothes off, fingers sliding down to her panties. It was her last coherent thought for a while.

***

Rachel rested her cheek against the shower wall as she gasped for breath. She laughed into it, the water hot as it pounded down on her, but she was still frustrated. Really, three times in one afternoon? She turned and slid down the wall, raising her face to the spray of water. She hadn't been indulging herself in her attraction to Jack at all, and it had been a long, long time since she'd found someone she wanted to be intimate with, so she supposed it made sense. Maybe. But if she didn't get out of this shower she would still be here when Jack arrived . . .

Rachel forced herself to wash the conditioner from her hair and give herself another scrub-down, then turn the shower off. Jack couldn't even get in to the apartment, so _that_ fledgling fantasy could stop right there. She snorted to herself as she toweled off, then pulled sensible underthings on. Sensible, not sexy. Jack wasn't going to see them.

At least, not tonight, part of her spoke up cheerfully.

Rachel pressed her fingers to her temples and rubbed as she firmly told that part of her to take a hike. She had dinner to start, and had to figure out just where exactly her and Jack's relationship stood at the moment. She groaned as she moved about her kitchen. She couldn't date him. She couldn't sleep with him --- dear God, she couldn't do that. She wasn't on birth control and didn't have condoms, and she doubted that he'd have any, either.

Not that it would make a difference, because they weren't going to have sex. Her loins let out a disappointed whine, and she snarled at her ovaries as she put water on to boil. She was lonelier for a man's touch than she'd realised, and her slowly building infatuation with her friend just made things worse. She knew she could deny him --- and herself --- if it came to that, but damn it, she didn't _want_ to. Rachel slammed a cupboard shut as her eyes stung with tears before she grabbed for her cell phone, hitting speed dial and when that steady, _sensible_ voice answered, she found herself pouring out the entire story to him, desperate for some good advice as she continued to flutter around her kitchen.

***********

**A/N:** Hey! I haven't introduced myself or said hi yet. So . . . I'm Larissa, and I'll be your author for this little flight of fancy. Hello! I want to thank you all so much for reading Speak, and for your wonderful reviews. I really appreciate them; they make me giddy. ^_^

Anyway, let me go over a few things you've asked or mentioned in your reviews. First, I think it's obvious by now that the romance is between Jack and Rachel. If you couldn't figure that out by this chapter, smack yourself for me. The story is so well-written, and the grammar, spelling, and punctuation so good, because I've been writing fanfiction for ten years, and I've been reading novels since I was in the 4th grade. It sort of rubs off on you after a bit.

I _am_ basing Jack on Heath Ledger's Joker; this is post-TDK, and I changed the description to involve the Jack/Rachel bit. I update quickly because I've finished Speak and am posting the sequel, Sing, elsewhere. When I post a chapter of Sing, I post a chapter of Speak, just so I don't run out of fic too soon. I'm not _that_ prolific a writer, though I _did_ finish Speak in about half a month. Because of this, your suggestions may or may not seem to go ignored. But never fear, there are a few movie quotes in there, as well as in Sing.

There will also be a couple confrontations between Jack and others in this fic, as well as more in Sing.

Oaky (yes, I spell it 'oaky.' I say it that way, too), I think that's it for now. Thanks for reading; I love you all!


	7. Chapter 7

He was nuzzling her neck gently, one arm around her waist and the other across her upper chest, a silent apology for snapping at her at the table. Rachel rinsed the last dish off and then turned in his embrace, running her fingers through his hair as he raised his head just enough to meet her gaze. She was relaxed, comfortable with him leaning against her, and there'd been no sign of her earlier breakdown all evening.

Still, her friend was perceptive. "Are you all right?" he asked in a low voice, brushing a bit of hair behind her ear.

Rachel nodded as she sighed, not wanting to talk. She had to, though; she had to lay down some boundaries tonight. "Jack . . ." He leaned down to kiss her but paused and drew back when she placed her hand on his chest. Rachel reached behind her to where his hands rested at the small of her back, covering them with her own and keeping them there. Nothing she could think to say sounded right, no matter what the advice she'd gotten earlier was.

Jack, though, wonderful Jack, was on top of the moment. "This isn't right," he said. Rachel bit her lower lip and looked up at him. "I mean, for anyone else, the stigma of being with the Joker would be too much after a while, wouldn't it? The press, the rumours . . ." He tilted his head as her lip quivered. "But . . . that it's _you . . . Especially_ because it's _you_, it just won't work, will it?"

Rachel took a few deep breaths and reached for the calm voice that had guided her during her frantic phone call. "You're my friend, Jack," she told him firmly. "You're not going to _stop_ being my friend. I don't _care_ who you used to be; you're Jack Napier now, and I'm not going to stop caring about you." She took a deep breath. "But, yes, I have to think of the public's perception of me, and they _won't_ be happy if we're . . . if we . . ." She sighed and rubbed her arms. "It's a matter of public trust, Jack," Rachel said as he started to look away. "And being with you will shatter that trust."

"But you _want_ to be with me," he pressed gently, lowering his forehead to hers.

Rachel sighed and nodded. Be honest, and they could work something out. "I want to be with you," she admitted.

Jack squeezed his arms around her waist tightly, burying his face in her neck and laughing. He picked her up and swing her around, and when he set her down again he kissed her. Rachel tried to push him away but he took her hands and entwined their fingers, so she gave up and returned his kisses until he lifted her up onto the sink and then she _did _push away.

"Jack, please!"

"I'm good at keeping secrets, Rachel," he whispered in her ear. "I am _so_ good at keeping secrets." He pulled back to grasp her face between his hands, the gleeful smile on his lips magnetic, and she'd never seen him so happy as he was right now. He was almost begging her with his soft words and soft kisses. "Please, Rachel . . . no one has to know . . ."

She shook her head and covered his hands with her own. "Jack, the _point_ of a relationship is that people know. Not _everyone_, but I don't want to make up excuses for why I'm not bringing a date to the company Christmas party, or not be able to hold your hand while we're walking down the street." She curled her hands around the back of his neck. "I don't want to have to hide you," she whispered. "I want to be able to tell my mother that there's this wonderful man in my life, who makes me laugh, who looks at me like I'm the most incredible thing on earth, who makes me happier than I've been in the last ten years." Rachel blinked tears from her eyes. All this had been building for the last seven months and she clung to Jack, not wanting to let him go, ever. "I want to bring you to one of Bruce's ridiculous parties and hold your hand when it gets to be too much for you. I want . . . _God_, I want . . ."

"_Me_?" he asked, pulling their hips together.

Rachel sucked in her breath and nodded. "Yes, that, too. But, Jack . . . I _can't_."

"Why not?" he interrupted. His brow was furrowed as he stared at her. "What's so wrong with taking what you want when it's offered to you? And why _do_ people have to know? _I'd _prefer that they _didn't_. I know I'm not the sanest man alive," and he raised his voice over her protests, "but it's not like I'm dry-humping you in alleys or, or trying to kill you."

"But you _did_," Rachel stressed. "And _that's_ what people are going to remember." He was getting frustrated and trying to pull away, but she grabbed his shoulders and held him close. "Jack, please, if I wasn't the D.A., I ---"

"Then why don't you quit?" he asked sharply. "Just _quit_. I'm sure there are lots of jobs you can get ---"

"That's not the _point,_ Jack! I can't quit my job. I don't _want_ to quit my job." She shook her head pleadingly. "Please, Jack ---"

He shoved away from her and Rachel almost ended up with her rear in the sink as he paced across the kitchen. "I _hate_ this fucking city," he snarled. "I hate it's _rules_, I hate it's _people_, I hate ---"

"_Jack_." His head whipped around at her forceful tone and he blinked, the animal snarl that had spread across his features smoothing out slightly. Rachel hopped off the edge of the sink and reached for him, taking his hand and pulling him with her into the living room. He followed, head tilted to the side as he watched her curiously. She sat him on the couch and stood in front of him with her hands on her hips. "This city has done _nothing_ wrong, Jack. They hate you because of decisions that _you _made, and now _you're_ paying the price for those decisions. I wish to _God_ that you _hadn't_ made those choices, but you did. You _did_, Jack, and you have to face the consequences. This --- _us _--- is one of those consequences."

"I'm an atheist," he reminded her.

Rachel rolled her eyes, but wasn't deterred. "_I_ know you've changed, Jack." Her gaze softened and her voice lowered. "I also know it's not as permanent or stable a change as it seems like."

The shocked look he gave her made Rachel sigh and sink down beside him on the couch. She took his hand, holding the back of it to her cheek.

"Rachel ---"

She raised her hand. "It's mostly small things. A certain look in your eye, or the way you laugh, and . . ." She sighed and took a deep breath. "And your apparent insomnia." Jack started guiltily. "I know you go out at night, Jack. The first time I called you and you didn't answer, I figured you were ignoring the phone. But then you answered when I'd forgotten my briefcase, and I started to worry. I called the next night and you didn't answer, so I drove over." Rachel held his hand between her breasts as he tried to pull away. Being out after dark without prior permission, much less supervision, was breaking his parole.

"Look, Rachel, I just walk around, all right? I'm not doing anything wrong." He wasn't meeting her gaze.

Her voice was very, very soft. "And those muggers they found last week?"

Jack jumped up and almost yanked Rachel off the couch in the process. He started pacing again, frantic and nervous. "I didn't do anything wrong!" he repeatedly loudly. "I didn't kill them!" Rachel was still watching him, her heart pounding in her chest as his agitation rose. This wasn't going to be an easy fit to calm him down from. "Yeah, they tried to mug me, so what? I left them unconscious. I _did_!" he yelled as he glared at her. Rachel shut her mouth quickly. "I made sure they were still breathing, and I went _right_ back home after it happened! Fuck, Rachel, what do you _want_ from me?! Do you _really_ expect me to sleep in that fucking _empty_ apartment night after god damned lonely night? Every _fucking_ time I go to bed, I'm reminded of Harleen! I remember the way she _felt_, the way she _smelled_, the way she _tasted_ . . ." He tilted his head back, hands clenched as his throat convulsed. "Oh _God_, the way she _tasted_ . . ." Opening his eyes and looking down at her once more, Jack's lip curled into a snarl. "So yeah, _Rachel_, I get the hell out of there sometimes, during the only fucking time I won't get stared at like the _freak_ I am!" He turned and grabbed the wooden vase her mother had given her last year, throwing it at the wall. Rachel jumped at the noise, one hand curled at her throat as she watched Jack warily. He growled in frustration when the vase didn't shatter and stalked over to it, picking it up and hurling it against another wall.

"Jack, stop," Rachel whispered. "Please stop. You're scaring me."

That usually worked, but this time he whirled on her and stormed over, leaning down and placing his hands on either side of her shoulders on the couch.

"Well, maybe you _should_ be afraid, love," he growled at her. Their faces were centimetres apart and Rachel's eyes fluttered closed despite herself. "Maybe you should be _terrified_ that you'll end up just like Harleen." Rachel's heart skipped another beat and her breath was fast and shallow and he drew closer to her, nipping gently at her lower lip. "Maybe I'll bite you just like I bit her," he whispered, punctuating his speech with more nips, each one a little harder than the last. Rachel leaned back, but she didn't have anywhere to go. She was fighting back tears, pushing gently against his chest as he continued his assault, whispering soft pleas for him to stop. "Maybe we'll be fucking, and it be _so good_ that time, and you'll rake your nails so _hard_ down my back that it will leave _more_ scars, and I'll love it, I'll bite down on your lip as I come inside of you and then you'll bleed, Rachel, you will _bleed into me_ and I'll fucking _love it_, even as you're crawling off of me and running out the door, I'll be wanting to _rip your fucking lip off and eat it_, I'll be shouting for you to stop but still I'll be wanting to _eat you alive_, then you'll scream and I'll rush out to save you but you'll be _gone, falling_, and then _you'll_ be dead, _too._"

He'd straddled her hips and was holding the back of her neck with one hand, the other holding her wrists so she couldn't beat at his heaving chest and now Rachel _was_ crying, terrified as his voice dropped to a shaking whisper, his face buried in her neck. About this time Batman should come crashing through her window, but Bruce was in Las Vegas, an entire continent away, and she was all alone with Jack and his raging demons.

"Who will save me then, Rachel? Who will stop me from doing whatever I want? Who will keep all my fantasies at bay?" He pressed their cheeks together, flinching when she whimpered and tried to pull away.

"Jack, please . . . please let me go . . ."

He pulled back and looked at her in horror, tears streaming down his face. "Oh, God, Rachel, I'm so sorry . . ." And he idid/i let her go, backing away from her slowly and whispering apologies. His face was so twisted with disgust and hate that Rachel reached out to him and whispered his name, but he shook his head violently and yanked her front door open, and she heard his heavy footsteps in the hall as he ran away.

Rachel curled in on herself and burst into tears, still shaking with fear. The last time she'd been that afraid had been when she'd been tied in that warehouse, hearing Harvey's panicked voice, knowing that she wasn't going to survive but needing to comfort him, to make him believe . . .

Suddenly Rachel sat up and scrambled for her phone, and it took her two tries until she'd found Dr. Morgenson's number and dialed it. He'd told her, he'd said that if Jack _ever_ got physically violent with her, call him as soon as she was safe.

"H, hello?"

It was a woman's sleepy voice that answered, and Rachel almost started laughing with hysteria as she curled up on the couch. "M-may I please speak with Dr. Morgenson?" she forced out.

"Uh . . . James, it's for you . . . I'm sorry, who is this?"

"Rachel Dawes," she whispered, gulping back sobs.

"It's Rachel D---"

"Rachel. What's wrong?"

She _did_ start laughing at his concerned voice, laughing and crying and the good doctor took a few minutes to talk gently to her, calm her down, suppress the hysteria that felt like it was going to consume her. Rachel took another deep breath and held it, and he waited.

"Now, tell me what's wrong, Rachel. Are you safe?"

"I'm safe," she whispered. "It's just . . . you said that if, if Jack ever . . ." The tears jumped to her throat again and again Dr. Morgenson spoke to her gently, easing her out of it. "He . . . we . . . oh, God, Doctor, he scared me so _much_ . . ." She gulped down air, hiccuped, and with gentle prodding told Morgenson what had happened. He was quiet for a while, and there was rustling from his end of the line.

Then, "Do you know where Jack is right now?"

"No," she murmured, exhausted. "He ran out."

The man on the other end might have cursed, except Rachel was sure he didn't know how to, so she must have been hearing things. "Are you hurt, Rachel? I want you to get up and look in the mirror. Did he hurt you?"

"Uh . . ." Rachel heaved herself off of the couch and staggered to the bathroom, and winced as she caught sight of her face. "Yeah," she mumbled. She hadn't realised how much her lip hurt. "He kept biting my lip. It's . . ." She peered closer, this way and that. "It's just bruised, is all." Then she snorted. "'Is all.' Right. This is what the beginning of battered wife syndrome must feel like."

"Be glad it's still attached," she was advised, "and no, this isn't the beginning of battered wife syndrome. We need to find Jack, Rachel." He must have sense her wince. "If we don't, I don't know what he'll do, not in this mental state. I hope he's still around your apartment, but . . ."

Rachel went cold at the thought of Jack hurting someone, or worse, getting hurt himself. She dried her eyes and pulled her hair back into a ponytail. "All right," she said in a steady voice. "All right." She walked back to the living room and slid into her sneakers, then headed out the door. "I'll call you if I find him."

"I'll head to his apartment --- I know a few of his usual haunts, and he might have gone to one of them. No, Sarah, it's fine, nothing big . . . Well, yes, then it is, but I'll be back soon. I love you." He coughed lightly. "I understand your position, by the way, but I ido/i think you ought to consider . . . low-key dating."

"You tell me this after Jack almost bites my lip off?" Rachel asked, but she was too concerned with looking for Jack to be snippy. She pushed the elevator button, and waited until both had opened to emptiness before heading to the stairs, thinking he might be sitting in the stairwell.

"The thought of losing you terrifies him, Rachel. He's trying to hold on to you the best he knows how, but . . . he doesn't quite know how to do it in a healthy manner. He tells me he sleeps much better at night when you stay over."

Rachel flushed as she walked quickly down the stairs. Jack would have been more likely to run down ten flights of stairs --- oh, dear God, please don't let him have tripped and fallen --- than take the elevator in the agitated state he was in.

"It's nothing sexual," she said defensively. "I've just fallen asleep a few times, after a stressful day."

"That's still a big sign of trust," she was reminded. "Where do you live, again?"

"Lower Fifth." She was panting by this time, wishing she'd taken the elevator.

"There's a bar on Seventh he goes to sometimes. Louie's. You might try there."

"_Really_," Rachel murmured. Bars --- and the accompanying alcohol --- were also on the list of things he wasn't allowed.

"He doesn't drink. It's dark and quiet and he doesn't get stared at there." There was a moment's hesitation. "He loves you, Rachel."

Rachel gulped back tears and wiped at her face. "I know," she whispered. She didn't want to hear it from Dr. Morgenson, she wanted to hear it from _Jack_, even though she couldn't let him know the truth, ever . . . "Look, I'm running down ten flights of stairs. Call you if I find him."

He was distracted. "Same here. Talk to you soon."

"Yeah." Rachel slid her phone into her purse and concentrated on getting down the stairs. The asshole wasn't on them, damn him, and she was sweaty and out of breath when she got to the ground floor. He wasn't in the lobby, either, and then she pushed out the front door and into the street. "Jack?" she called. There was no answer. "Shit . . ."

She got to her car without finding him, and headed straight to Louie's, going slowly and glancing down all the side streets and alleys she passed. It was a wonder, she thought as she pulled into an empty parking spot along the street and got out, that she hadn't been pulled over for cruising. Louie's was smoky and a little dingy, a biker bar where it looked like there was probably a fight most every night. She got wolf-whistles and a couple of catcalls as she flashed her ID at the bouncer and slipped in the door, blinking as her eyes adjusted to the dark. She took a slow circuit around the bar, then walked up to the bartender when she didn't see him.

The skinny Indian glanced up at her as he poured a drink. "Yeah?"

"I'm looking for someone," Rachel said. "He might have come in within the last twenty minutes. About six feet, walks with a slouch, scars . . ." She traced her finger over her lips in a smiley-face pattern, watching the man carefully.

There was a flicker of recognition in his eyes, but he shook his head. "He hasn't been in tonight."

Rachel sighed and pulled a business card out, scribbling her cell phone number on the back and handing it to him. "If he does, call me right away, all right?" His eyebrows raised as he looked her card over. "It's nothing official."

"Sure."

"Thank you." Rachel pushed away from the bar and tried not to kick anything as she walked out. The cool night air was blessedly free of smoke and she inhaled deeply, going back to her car. Where else could she look? How far could he have gotten by now? She nibbled on her lower lip and then started the car, circling slowly around back toward his apartment. She got all the way there and was contemplating heading to the park to look when her phone buzzed with an unfamiliar number.

Rachel grabbed at it. "Rachel Dawes."

"Uh, this is Raja, from Louie's. Your friend just came in."

Rachel breathed out a sigh of relief. "Oh, thank God. I'll be there in a few minutes."

"Yeah . . . you want me to keep him here if he tries to leave?"

She winced as she ran a red light. No one else needed to get hurt tonight. "No, let him go if he wants. Just call if he leaves."

"Sure. There's not going to be trouble, is there?"

He was clearly worried about his bar. "No, I just need to pick him up. Thank you so much."

"No problem."

Rachel gripped the steering wheel tightly after they'd hung up, then flipped her phone open at a red light that she actually stopped for, dialing Dr. Morgenson's number again.

He picked up before the first ring ended. "Did you find him?"

"He's at Louie's; I'm headed there now."

"Thank God for small favors. I'll meet you there."

It was almost midnight when Rachel pulled up to Louie's again, and she was surprised that it had taken two hours to find Jack. She ignored the men outside and when she walked in, Raja looked up and tilted his head at the far end of the bar, where Jack was hunched over a glass. The bartender mouthed 'water' at her and she nodded as she slung her purse over her shoulder and walked slowly to her friend. Her heart was pounding as she tried to think of what to say.

She hadn't thought of anything by the time she stood beside him, and even though he must have known someone was there, he didn't move, which was unusual for him. Rachel took a deep breath. "Jack . . ."

He jumped and jerked his head around, his eyes wide and wild before he turned back to his glass and lowered his face to it.

"Leave me alone," he rasped.

"Jack, you need to come with me." His knuckles were bloody and Rachel hoped it was just his. "Please, Jack."

He flinched and shied away when she put her hand on his back and rubbed gently. "I don't want to see you, Rachel," he growled, "so just go away." He arched his back again, trying to get away from her touch, but Rachel kept rubbing. "I said go away!"

She flinched just a bit, tears in her eyes, but Rachel stood her ground. "I'm not leaving you alone, Jack."

"Weren't you paying attention to what I did to you?!" he whispered hoarsely. "Oh God, I could have . . . I wanted to . . ."

"But you didn't," she said soothingly, drawing nearer and resting her cheek on his shoulder as he drew in shuddering breaths.

"I don't want to hurt you." He was absolutely miserable and Rachel blinked her tears away as she kissed his shoulder gently. He flinched like she'd hit him. "I can't take the chance that I'll hurt you again, because I might not stop if I do. So please . . . please, Rachel, leave me alone." He snorted. "You don't even want to be with me."

Rachel wrapped her arms around him and pulled his head to her chest, running her fingers through his hair. He was stiff, but leaned almost desperately into the contact.

"I think it's obvious that I _do_," Rachel murmured, "seeing as how I'm here right now." He grunted, nuzzling her breast. "Come home with me, Jack," she urged quietly. "Please. You don't always have to be alone."

There were footsteps behind her and she glanced up to see Dr. Morgenson hanging back a bit. "Go with her, Jack."

He shook his head. "I'll hurt her again."

"I don't think you will. I've brought a sedative that should put you out for the night; I figured you'd need it."

Jack finally looked up, eyes and cheeks wet. "Why do you put up with me?" he whispered to Rachel.

She smiled through her own tears and brushed his bangs back from his forehead before kissing it firmly. "Because I like having a psychopathic boyfriend that I have to hide from the world," she said against his skin.

He trembled. "You're just trying to get me to leave with you."

"If you don't come home with me," Rachel told him, "I'm going to call the police down here. Your parole will be revoked, and you'll be put in a maximum-security prison for the rest of your life." She tilted his chin up and met his wide-eyed gaze. "I'm serious, Jack. Get your ass off of that stool, take the sedative, and get in my car."

Jack looked to Dr. Morgenson, but the psychiatrist was clearly siding with Rachel. Finally he sighed and stood up, following Rachel tamely out the door. Once at her car Dr. Morgenson handed Rachel Jack's bag of medications, then took out a syringe and small bottle. He shook it, then stabbed the needle into the top and drew some out before nodding to Jack. Rachel took his hand as he held his other arm out, and Dr. Morgenson rolled his sleeve up to plunge the needle into Jack's bicep. Jack didn't even flinch, and after he'd pulled the needle out, Morgenson yawned.

"I want you in my office at nine a.m. sharp," he ordered. Jack nodded as Rachel opened the passenger door. "You ought to be able to get home before it really kicks in," he told Rachel. "Will you be all right?"

Rachel looked down at Jack as he listlessly put his seatbelt on, then nodded. "We'll be fine. Thank you, Doctor."

Morgenson raised his eyebrows at her. "I want _you_ in my office at five, young lady." He cut her off when she opened her mouth to protest. "I'll consider it part of Jack's counseling; you _both_ need to figure out how to deal with each other better. Nine for him, five for you. Am I understood?"

Rachel nodded meekly. "Yes, sir."

"Good. Now get him to bed, and take care."

"You, too." He watched them drive off and Rachel glanced over at Jack, his head tilted back against the headrest, before reaching out to touch his shoulder. "Jack?"

"I'd rather go to prison than hurt you."

Rachel smiled slightly, a twitch of her lips more than anything. "I'd rather neither happened."

"I love you. Can I say that?"

Her chest hurt as Rachel nodded. "You can say whatever you want." He was silent after that, clearly drifting off, but jerked awake as soon as she stopped the car. "Come on, Jack."

It wasn't easy getting him out of the car, as the sedative was kicking in and he wasn't too keen on being of use anyway, but Rachel got him into the elevator without too much difficulty and leaned her head against his chest as the doors slid shut. Then she wrinkled her nose.

"Did you fall into a puddle?"

". . . Might have. Yeah."

"You're filthy." She sighed and rubbed her eyes. "We'll give you a bath."

"Too tired."

"I'll help." The elevator came to a nauseating stop and the doors slid open, and Jack draped his arms over Rachel's shoulders as she coaxed him into the hallway. He was leaning heavily on her the whole time, breathing shallowly as she fumbled for her keys. "You're not helping, Jack."

"Not trying to."

She got them inside and he leaned against the wall while she locked up, head tilted back as he watched her out of slitted eyes. "Come on," Rachel said, taking his hand and pulling him to the bathroom. He followed, watching her with a tired frown as she plugged the tub up and turned the tap on, then sat him on the toilet and started unbuttoning his shirt.

Rachel's hands were shaking slightly as she worked at his clothing, concentrating on the button and not his torso as it was slowly revealed. There were scars on it, and one long scar across his stomach that looked like someone had tried to gut him, but it wasn't as bad as Rachel had thought it would be. She'd always imagined his body would be as mangled as his face, if not more.

She unlaced his shoes with a sigh, and then tugged his socks off while he shrugged out of his shirt. Rachel paused at his belt, but she'd come this far and he was, indeed, filthy, so she undid it with hesitant hands and then unfastened his pants. She pulled him up, her heart pounding, and then pushed them off of his hips --- had he lost weight? --- along with his boxers.

"Into the tub," she urged him, and when he complied and draped his arms over the edge she gathered his clothes up. "Stay right there."

She took them to the washer and started the small load as quickly as she could, hurrying back to the bathroom with the fear of finding Jack trying to let himself drown, but he'd stayed put and was . . . yes, he was snoring slightly. Rachel had to smile as she turned the water off and disrobed, then sank into the steaming hot water gratefully. She sent silent thanks for the extra-deep tub --- almost a jacuzzi, really --- and then pulled Jack's limp form back against her. He mumbled something and turned his cheek into her shoulder, one hand going around her waist as the other rested on her breast. Rachel kissed his cheek and cradled him for a while before pulling her body wash and scrubby close, pouring some onto the green netting and then running it lightly over Jack's back and shoulders. He shifted in her arms but settled down after a moment, making soft noises as she did her best to wash him off. It would have worked better if he'd been awake, but she managed, and even got his hair lathered and rinsed.

Rachel wrapped her arms and legs around Jack then and leaned back against the headrest attached to the bath tub, holding him tightly as she let the water relax her. He sighed into her neck and she kissed his cheek, her lips lingering on his moist skin. She had so much to think about, but she knew who to turn to and it could wait until the morning. She had to wake Jack up just enough to get him out of the tub and onto her bed, where she gently toweled him off before covering him up. She wrapped herself up in towels, then switched the laundry and stood in her doorway for a few minutes, watching the man sleep. He was curled slightly on his side, one hand reaching toward the empty side of the bed, and that prompted Rachel to slide under the covers, molding herself to his warm body. He snuggled against her with a pleased sigh, holding her against himself tightly as they both drifted off.


	8. Chapter 8

It had been a few years since Rachel had woken up next to someone. She was being cuddled like she was a teddy bear, soft breath on the back of her neck. She blinked over at her clock, and had about eighteen minutes before the alarm went off. That prompted a soft groan of protest and she held Jack's hand tighter between her breasts, tilting her head to gently kiss his forearm where it rested under her cheek.

The only response that elicited was Jack holding her a little tighter; he must have been still asleep, though his body was just beginning to notice she was there. Rachel regretted not putting nightclothes on, but there was nothing she could do about it now. Still, she didn't want him to be any more embarrassed than he was likely to be when he woke up, so she shifted out of his grasp and sat up. She was reaching for the robe she'd left on the floor when her doorbell went off.

Rachel frowned as she slipped it on and belted it, then slid into her green dinosaur slippers before padding quietly out to the living room. Jack shifted in the bed behind her, a faint mumble coming from him. Rachel tiptoed to the door and looked through the peephole, and was both mortified and grateful as she opened the door to Alfred's smiling face.

"I thought that after yesterday, you might like a nice breakfast this morning," he told her, holding up two insulated bags, "so I took the liberty of coming over. I do hope I'm not intruding."

She bit back tears and hugged him tightly, and if Alfred was startled, all he did was return the warm embrace. "No, Alfred, you're never intruding." She stepped back with a sniff and let him in. "Please be quiet, though. Jack's still sleeping."

She got a fatherly kiss on the forehead. "I shall be quiet as a mouse, my dear." Rachel picked up her vase and set it back where it belonged as Alfred moved to her dining room before following him, a smile spreading across her face as he pulled out a thermos of hot cocoa.

"You're the best, Alfred." She gladly took the cup he poured for her.

"I do try," was his somewhat modest reply. "If I'd known Mr. Napier was staying over, I would have brought more food."

He was still busy arranging the place settings and food to his satisfaction, and his tone was conversational and a little apologetic. Rachel sighed, feeling like her father had caught her boyfriend sleeping over. Which . . . was sort of what had just happened.

"It wasn't planned." Now Alfred _did_ turn to her, his eyebrows raised and a stern look on his face as he opened his mouth. Rachel realised how he had taken her words and went red. "No, Alfred, we didn't . . . look, he had an . . . incident last night, and I couldn't leave him alone."

That mollified the older man and he turned back to breakfast. "I see. Did he do that to your lip?"

She touched her lip gently and it only hurt a little. "Yes," she whispered. "But I'm okay, Alfred."

"That lip says otherwise, dear." Now he stood in front of her, tilting her chin up to look at the wound with pursed lips.

"It was the worst fit I've ever seen him throw, but you should have seen the way he ran away from me," Rachel defended herself. "His psychiatrist helped me find him, and he approved of Jack staying here."

Alfred watched her for a moment. "Rachel, you know I would never pry into your affairs, but I'm not sure _I_ can approve of a man who tries to bite your lip in two."

Rachel smiled, still tired. "There's not really a way to explain things without sounding like I've got Stockholm Syndrome," she admitted, "but just listen, all right?" He nodded and sat across from her at the table, hands folded in front of him as she went over the previous night's events. Her alarm went off partway through the story, but it shut off soon after.

Alfred rubbed his chin as she wrapped up her tale. "I see. I admit, I had thought things were quite different between you two, otherwise I would have offered Dr. Morgenson's advice. I know you're the D.A., Rachel, and that Gotham needs to trust you, but I believe Mr. Napier had a point that not _everyone_ needs to know when you're seeing someone." He shrugged. "You've been an amazing help to this city, my dear, and I believe that if you put your trust in Mr. Napier, Gotham will eventually follow. He might never be a hero, but I don't think the backlash will be as bad as you fear." Then he looked past her. "Ah . . ."

Rachel whipped around to see Jack standing at her bedroom door, her sheet wrapped around his waist. She jumped up as Alfred sat back. "Jack! Your clothes are in the dryer." He watched her as she hurried to said dryer, pulling the clean outfit out and rushing back to him. "Ah . . . if you get dressed, I'll introduce you." She pressed the bundle to his chest and he looked down at her, face completely neutral. "Please?" Rachel whispered with a smile. Jack kept looking between her and Alfred, so she rested her hand on his cheek and kissed him gently. "It's all right, Jack. Alfred's an old friend. He brought us breakfast."

The drugs must have still been in his system, because Jack didn't say a thing as he took the clothes and closed the door. Rachel looked over at Alfred with a frown.

"Would it be best, perhaps, if I left?"

She shook her head. "I want him to meet you." Her heart was pounding, wondering what Alfred must be thinking. "He's really wonderful, Alfred."

"Abusive temper tantrums aside, I'm assuming." She flinched and her friend patted her hand. "Since this is the first I've heard of him harming you, Rachel, I promise to withhold judgment until I know him better. Here, I believe that if you don't mind smaller portions, I can split this all in half."

He busied himself with re-portioning the food, and they shared a smile as the bedroom door opened and Jack strode out, running his fingers through his messy hair. He cleared his throat as he stepped into the dining room.

"Ah . . . I'm sorry about that," he said as Rachel reached out for him. "I hadn't realised Rachel had . . . more guests over." He hesitated, one hand clenching, and Alfred smiled as he offered his hand.

"It's no problem, Mr. Napier," he said as they shook briefly. "I'm Alfred Pennyworth; I've known Rachel since she was a little girl."

Jack's eyebrows raised slightly. "You're _that_ Alfred," he mused. "It's a pleasure to meet you." Then he frowned as his gaze flicked between Rachel and the bedroom. "Ah . . . I promise, I didn't touch her. I mean, well, I don't _think_ ---"

"I trust Rachel's judgment," Alfred interrupted smoothly. "She's well able to make her own decisions; you don't have to explain anything to me. I _am_ merely the butler, after all."

"With a military record, who could probably take me out at a thousand yards," Jack replied lightly, "so yes, I think it's in my best interest to stay on your good side, sir."

Alfred chuckled as he poured more cocoa for the both of them. Jack sat next to Rachel and she slid her hand under the table, groping for his. He gave her a quick glance before opening his hand for her to hold. "Oh, it's been years since I've picked up a rifle," he assured Jack. "Though I was, indeed, quite the marksman."

"That's not comforting at all."

Alfred turned back to him with a plate of food, setting it down with a beatific smile. "It wasn't meant to be, Mr. Napier." Jack raised his eyebrows at Rachel as she received her own plate, and she smiled at him. "Although I _do_ expect that any intimate contact between you two be undertaken only after the strictest contraceptive measures have been taken."

"_Alfred_!" Rachel burst out as Jack almost coughed cocoa out his nose. They were both flushing.

"Not that it's any of _my_ business," the butler went on. "I simply feel that I'm too young to have grandchildren, is all."

"You have _great_-grandchildren," Rachel reminded him tartly.

"So I do," Alfred said, as if it had just been revealed to him. "I also don't wish to have to face Master Bruce with that news." He smiled at their discomfort and patted Rachel's head. "But I trust you to be a good girl."

"Alfred likes to tease," Rachel explained as she glared at the man.

Jack was concentrating on his food. "I have to be at Dr. Morgenson's at nine," was all he said, clearly intent on pretending that the last few minutes hadn't happened.

Rachel squeezed his hand as she returned to her own meal. "Do you need a ride? I have to be in the office by eight."

". . . Oh."

"I should be more than glad to escort Mr. Napier wherever he wishes to go," Alfred offered as he came out of the kitchen. "With Master Bruce in Vegas this week, I find I have too much time on my hands."

"What, you want time to threaten me in private?" Jack asked, but his words held no bite.

Rachel didn't hear Alfred's reply as she got up to get Jack's medications, but it made him laugh, and she smiled. If Alfred approved of him, it would make dealing with Bruce easier. She still didn't want the two to have much contact. If Jack somehow pieced together that Bruce was Batman, she didn't know if his fragile mental stability would be able to handle it. That thought worried her as she decided it was time she got dressed and brushed her teeth.

"--- back into Arkham if I ever do anything like that again," Jack was murmuring earnestly as she came back into the dining room.

"A splendid plan, Jack," Alfred nodded with approval. "I admit, after Rachel told me what happened I wasn't too keen on you being near her, but I find myself more comfortable with the idea now."

"Thank you," Jack murmured when she handed him his morning pills. He swallowed them with a swig of cocoa, then took the napkin Alfred offered instead of wiping his mouth on his sleeve. "Sorry." He looked up at Rachel then, his gaze sweeping over her body. ". . . Wow."

She laughed and shook her head as she scratched his own. He groaned and leaned into the contact. "It's just an everyday work outfit." What came out in reply was in no way understandable, just a mindless string of vowels and consonants, and Rachel laughed again. "It's good to know a man's weaknesses," she purred.

Alfred was clearing the dishes. "Indeed it is. While you reduce him to a helpless puddle, Rachel, I hope you realise you have twenty minutes to get to work."

"Call in sick?" Jack moaned hopefully.

"I left early yesterday; I can't skip today." She leaned down and kissed his cheek, but he moved his head to press their lips together. Rachel sighed and let him pull her into his lap, and they held each other tightly until Alfred's gentle cough made Jack pull back. "I have to see Dr. Morgenson at five," she whispered as she slid off of his lap.

"Come over after?" he asked, hands still grasping her waist. He looked up at her pleadingly and Rachel smiled as she nodded.

"I will." She moved his hands and kissed him again, lightly. "Be good for Alfred."

"I promise."

He turned in his chair to watch as she hugged Alfred. "Thank you so much," she whispered in her old friend's ear.

"It's my pleasure, Rachel. I'll take good care of him. Now, you'd best be on your way."

"I'm going, I'm going," Rachel said as she paused for another kiss from Jack, and the smile that was on his face as she left warmed her all throughout the day.

***

"I can't . . . get in there." Napier was shaking his head as Alfred held the back door of the car open for him.

"Of course you can," Alfred told him briskly. "I told Rachel I'd take good care of you, and so I shall. Now, in you go."

"Ah, no, you don't understand. I mean, this is a big ego boost, thank you, but I really don't deserve to be chauffeured all around Gotham." Alfred simply stood there with the door open, a pleasant and above all _unmovable_ expression on his face.

"Then it's a good thing we're not going all around, isn't it?" he was asked politely. "Just to your appointment, then back to your apartment. Unless you would like to buy Rachel a birthday present while we're out."

Jack faltered. "A birthday present?"

He was gently shoved into the car and Alfred closed the door firmly, not answering until they were pulling out of the parking garage.

"Her birthday is next month. I would have thought she had told you. No matter," the butler continued, "we'll find her a present and I'll be sure to add you to the guest list."

"Guest list?"

"Indeed, sir." He'd been requested to call Napier by his first name, but old habits died hard. "Master Bruce is throwing her a birthday party. Do you have a meal preference?"

"None of that vegetarian crap Rachel eats," Jack replied faintly. "I'm sorry, but I get the feeling she's trying to keep me away from . . . him. I don't think I should go to the party unless he invites me."

Alfred smiled in the rear-view mirror. "Ah, but this is Rachel's party, sir, not Master Bruce's. She'll invite whomever she pleases, and I can't see her leaving you out. Now, do you have dress-casual attire?"

"Uh . . . I have one suit," Napier replied.

Alfred nodded. "Then we'll see about getting you a new outfit, as well."

That snapped the other man out of his shock and he leaned forward. "Now wait a minute, Mr. Pennyworth ---"

"Alfred will do."

"I don't have the money for a new suit," Napier pressed on. "I'm barely making rent as it is."

"I'm aware of that, sir," Alfred assured him. "You won't be paying for the suit. Consider it a gift, if you will, from Wayne Corporation for your continued progress in reintegrating into society. I'll hear no protests," he cut Napier off. "You need to make as good an impression on Master Bruce as possible, and I know just the tailor to go to."

Napier sat back, raising his hands in defeat and Alfred smiled to himself.

"Can I at least make her present myself?" he was asked irritably a few minutes later.

"Of course you may, sir."

"Actually . . . there's something I want to get framed."

"We'll stop by your apartment to get it after your appointment, then the framer's." Napier nodded with a sigh, silent until he'd been dropped off at Dr. Morgenson's office. "I'll be back in an hour to pick you up."

"Thanks," he said, reaching out to shake Alfred's hand. He watched the man leave, then headed up the steps and was greeted by his psychiatrist at the door.

"How are you, Jack?"

"I'm an idiot," he groaned as he followed Morgenson inside.

"Why is that?"

He hesitated. "I told Rachel I love her last night."

Morgenson gestured for him to sit and then took his own seat, leaning forward. "And why does that make you an idiot?"

"Because I was all doped up." He curled his hands into fists and rapped them on the arms of the chair. "I . . . I didn't want to tell her yet. I mean, I wanted it to be . . . special, I guess."

"And how did she react?"

"Uh . . . I think . . . I don't really remember. She still let me stay over, and she kissed me this morning . . ." He scratched his head. "I think she gave me a bath. I remember water. Fuck, first time I could have seen her naked, and I was out of it."

"What have I told you about swearing?"

"Not to?" Jack guessed. He was given a stern look and shrugged. "I'll work on it. More, I mean. I'm assuming she bathed me . . . I woke up clean and naked, at any rate. Bruce Wayne's butler was there. He . . . well, he doesn't _dis_approve of me, at any rate. He brought her breakfast. She kissed me in front of him. Ffff . . . darn it, it's her birthday next month and apparently Wayne's throwing her a party that I'm apparently supposed to go to." He was shifting in his chair as his thoughts spilled out. "And Alfred --- the butler --- said he'd buy me a suit for it, a 'gift' from Wayne Corporation for fitting in to society so good." Then he snorted. "Right. I almost bite Rachel's lip off, and I'm fitting in 'good.' God daaaaa-arn it all."

Morgenson just smiled. "And what do you plan to do the next time you get that angry around Rachel?" he asked lightly.

Jack tilted back in his chair, the front two legs coming off the ground as he rubbed his eyes. "I told Alfred I'd check myself back into Arkham if it happened again."

"And what about your immediate response?"

"Well . . . Uhm . . . run away? That seemed to work last night. I mean, but _before_ she gets hurt."

"And . . . ?"

"And . . . call you?"

"That would be advisable." Morgenson tapped his desk thoughtfully. "Please don't take this as an attack, Jack, but the one thing I really wish Harleen had worked on with you is how you interact with others on a daily basis." His eyes tightened at his dead wife's name. "People are _going_ to make you angry, and force you into situations that you don't want to be in. Harleen got around that problem by not letting you out very often, but that did nothing to solve the issue at hand."

"I don't _want_ to socialise with people," Jack said defensively.

"If you want to continue your relationship with Rachel, you'll have to," was the calm reply. "I understand that you find your fellow humans tiring, Jack, but an effort is going to have to be made to successfully interact with them. You've expressed a desire to take Rachel out on the town --- what are you going to do if someone jostles you, or the food takes a little longer than you think it ought to? What if there's an unexpected waiting list, or the movie is sold out?" From the look on Jack's face, he hadn't anticipated any of those scenarios. "At the _very_ least, it will embarrass Rachel if you lose your temper in public."

Jack ran his hand down his face. "Shit, I hadn't thought of that."

"I know. I'm going to suggest that you and Rachel start going out together to uncrowded places, for short periods of time. Daily outings to Jamba Juice don't count," he said as Jack opened his mouth.

"Darn it."

"You need to be in social situations where you aren't expected to interact with anyone but Rachel. I want you to get used to just being _around_ people for the time being, and then we'll work on talking to them."

"Uh . . . should I apologise for telling her I love her?"

"_Are _you sorry?"

"Well . . . no. I mean, I wanted to be clear-headed when I told her, but . . ."

"Then maybe that's what you should say."

". . . Oh." He chewed on his lip. "Look, Doctor, I'm . . . I'm a little worried."

Morgenson leaned forward again. "About what, Jack?"

He twisted his hands together, frowning as he looked off to the side. "Ah . . . well, I mean, Rachel's kissing me . . . she's said she wants me, but . . . I mean, when we --- _if_ we . . . go to bed, then . . . I don't want to hurt her," he finished in a rush. His face was flushed and he was breathing heavily, agitated about what he was trying to ask.

"I think that's something you'll have to bring up with Rachel, Jack," he was told gently. "If _both_ of you make the decision to have sex, then you'll both be responsible for finding out what the other likes, as well as communicating your own likes and dislikes, and you'll probably have to negotiate a little."

"I doubt she'll want to bite me until I bleed," Jack said sourly.

"Maybe. I don't know, Jack. I'm sure, though, that if you're clear with her, you'll both be able to come to mutually satisfying common ground. Also . . ." Jack looked up, and Morgenson raised a warning finger. "Do _not_ go to bed with Rachel if she's not sober. I'm serious, Jack," he said when the man started to open his mouth. "If you want Rachel to _know_ how much you value her, you'll keep your hands to yourself if she's been drinking. Even if _she's_ willing, tell her that you both need to wait until she's sober. It will be hard, yes --- it's always hard to deny the woman you love anything. But it will be worth it, and I promise you she'll appreciate it. Now. Do I have your word on this?"

Jack was silent, swallowing as he stared at Dr. Morgenson. Finally he nodded. "Yeah. Yes. I promise I won't sleep with Rachel unless she's sober."

That brought a sigh of relief to the psychiatrist's lips and he nodded with a smile. They moved on to other topics, and when Alfred pulled up to the curb again Jack was sitting on the stairs, waiting. They were silent as the other errands were run, throughout the fitting for Jack's new suit, and Jack thanked Alfred quietly when he was dropped off at his apartment for the day.

Alfred assured him it was no problem, and watched the man walk inside before heading back to Wayne Manor.


	9. Chapter 9

"You look tired," Hideki murmured as he and Rachel walked out of the police department.

"Rough couple of interrogations," she responded.

"Uh-huh. Did Jack spend the night? Because that blush says more than questioning ruffians wore you out."

She turned and hit him in the arm with a scowl. "Do _not_ tease me about him, Hideki, or I _swear_ I'll kill you and hide your body where it will _never_ be found."

"Ow . . . you're so violent, Rachel." It was the second time he'd called her by her given name and she smiled. "Still, you didn't say he _didn't_ spend the night. Was he any good?"

"_Look_, you slanty-eyed _weirdo_," Rachel hissed as Hideki laughed, "_Shut. Up_. All right?"

"You're not very PC. And I mean, really, slanty-eyed? Like I've inever/i heard ithat/i one before."

"Look, would you go make out with an intern and leave me alone? Oh, wait, they're all girls this quarter. Sorry; didn't mean to get your hopes up."

Hideki was scratching his ear. "Eh, yeah, it sucks. Or, well, _doesn't_, which is the problem."

"Ew! I don't want to _hear_ about it!"

He shrugged with a grin. "Hey, just 'cause _you're_ not getting any --- which you very well icould/i be, by the way --- doesn't mean you have to rain on _my_ parade. Besides, why do you think I keep coming with you to the police station?"

Rachel paused at the car, thoughts flashing to the young officer Hideki had been talking to the last few times they'd come, then she shook her finger at him. "_Hideki! _Are you sure he's legal?"

"Legal enough," was the impudent reply as he ducked into the car.

"If you get thrown in jail, I'm not representing you." He was laughing. "Look, yes, Jack stayed over last night, _but nothing happened_. It just . . . wasn't safe for him to be alone." Rachel wasn't sure quite when Hideki had become such a close friend, but now she seemed stuck with him. For all his teasing, she was glad to have a lighter view of things. "Oh, crap, my birthday's next month. Bruce is throwing me a party. Want to come? Bring your boy-toy if you want."

"I'm not _that_ out of the closet, Rachel. But sure, I'll come. I mean, if Bruce is footing the bill, I may as well, huh? Who else will be there?"

"You're so materialistic. Let's see . . . Bruce, me --- obviously --- my mother, Alfred, you . . . Harvey's parents might be there, too." Her throat closed up briefly and Hideki put his hand on her leg and squeezed. She nodded. "Thank you. Uhm . . . I need to invite Jack. I don't know if he'll want to come, but . . ."

"Invite the current flame --- who practically killed the dead fiance --- when the dead fiance's parents will be there? Is that smart?"

"Probably not." Rachel rubbed the back of her neck, torn. "But they've been to the party every year since Harvey died. I can't very well suddenly not invite them, you know."

"Eh. Well, I'll run interference if I need to. Everyone ---"

"--- loves an Irish-Japanese boy," Rachel finished with him, laughing. "Or so you say. Thank you, Hideki."

"No problem. I love you, in a completely platonic, non-sexual sort of sibling way."

Rachel burst out laughing. "I return the sentiment completely. No, but really, bring your friend. Bruce can keep a secret, and you might find the time to run off and make out."

"His name's Raoul." Hideki looked pleased with himself. "And I'll see if he wants to come. Thank you."

"Hey, you're trying to help further _my_ relationship, I may as well help you with yours."

"Get him drunk and bang his brains out."

"_Hideki_! You're off my list of friends!"

"Wait, I don't want him drunk if he does _that_ when he's sober." He gestured at her lip, ignoring her termination of their friendship. "Oh, I know! Tie him down! He likes that, if I recall."

"Do you want to _walk _back to the office?"

"I'd get mauled by every little old lady between here and there."

Rachel laughed. "True. I was lying about not being your friend anymore."

"I know, that's why I ignored it."

"Jerk."

"I try." She stuck her tongue out at him and he returned the gesture. "Why don't you and Jack come out with me tonight? We're going to a karaoke bar."

"We?"

"Raoul and I. We. Us. Together. That's what I meant."

Rachel laughed at the silly grin on his face. "Jack can't go anywhere with alcohol. But I'll see what I can do. I think it's probably time his parole conditions were reviewed, too."

"I'll get on that. You get on him."

"Would you _sotp_ projecting _your _sexual frustrations onto _me_, please?"

"I was talking about getting him to come out tonight, geeze," Hideki whined as he held his hands up in defense.

"Liar."

"No, honest, I was." He was grinning at her, and Rachel shoved his face as she parked the car.

"Get out. Just get out."

They were both laughing as they walked into the building.

***

"This is not good. This is not good. This is _so_ not good. If Bill and Judy are there, I'll have to introduce them to Jack. They're going to go ballistic. They're going to hate me. What the hell am I supposed to do?"

Rachel's stomach was twisting as she look at Dr. Morgenson pleadingly. She'd honestly forgotten about her annual birthday party, much less that Harvey's parents were always in attendance. And now, with Jack a firm fixture in her life, how was she supposed to face them?

"You could tell them the truth, that Jack is much different than he used to be, and that you've developed feelings for him."

"Do you _know_ the reaction they had when they found out Hideki was representing him when Harleen died and that_ I _thought he was innocent? Oh, for the love of God, for that _alone_ they might not show up! Which wouldn't be too bad, but . . . look, Doctor, Bill and Judy are going to skin me _alive_ if they find out I'm still in contact with Jack."

"Then don't invite them. You were dating to their son ten years ago, Rachel. _Dating_ --- you accepted Harvey's proposal just before his disfigurement, yes? Then it was never official. And no matter how much they may have considered you a part of their family, you aren't, and you don't owe it to them to keep inviting them to your birthday. I realise it's become a tradition, but you need to move on, and so do they." He tapped his fingers on his desk as he regarded her thoughtfully. "They might be showing up after all these years because they think you want them to," he offered. "Mr. and Mrs. Dent might just be waiting for _you_ to not need them anymore."

Rachel stared down at his desk and sighed. He had a point. The last few parties had been a little strained, on both sides. Maybe Bill and Judy didn't want any more reminders that their son was gone. "I'll . . . I'll call them. Or something." She rubbed her eyes, then remembered she was wearing eye shadow and grimaced. "Do I look like a panda now?"

He smiled. "You look fine. Are you planning on sleeping with Jack, Rachel?"

Her heart stopped. "Christ, Doctor, would you stop throwing things at me like that?" she snapped. Rachel sighed as he just looked at her with raised eyebrows. "I don't know. I mean, I _want_ to. I really . . . _really_ . . . want to. I'm just not sure where we are right now. I was going to try to find out last night, but . . ." Her fingers went to her lip and she sighed. "Why?"

"I want you to get on birth control in any case," Morgenson said. He laced his fingers together and rested his chin on them. "I understand your current hesitation, but many ill decisions have been made in the heat of the moment, and while I know Jack would love to have a baby with you, it's not something either of you are ready for. As for your party, I've also advised him that it would be a very bad thing to sleep with you when you're intoxicated. Not that I think you'll get that drunk at your party," he clarified, "but as I said, accidents _do_ happen, and I told him that, should _both_ of you decide to consummate your relationship, it would best be done sober, and that you would appreciate his thoughtfulness in that regard. Does your insurance cover birth control?"

He was reaching for his prescription pad as Rachel nodded. "It does, and I will." She was resentful that he was taking control of such an intimate part of her life, but part of Rachel was also grateful that she now had official permission to do what she'd been considering for the last month. "I mean, it's just a precaution. It doesn't mean that I'm going to roll into bed with him as soon as I get to his place."

The doctor smiled as he shook his head. "No, it doesn't. You might consider picking up some condoms on your way over . . . just keep them in your purse. Owning birth control doesn't mean you have to have sex. It simply means you're prepared if it happens. I had a patient who refused to be on birth control or carry condoms with her, claiming that it made having sex easier, and that if she wasn't protected, she would be sure not to have sex."

"She ended up pregnant?"

"Yes. So please, Rachel ---"

"All right, all right," the D.A. muttered. "I'll make an appointment with my doctor tomorrow."

He was scribbling on his pad. "Actually, I'll give you a prescription today, so you can get it filled as soon as possible. I trust there's no possibility of you being pregnant at the moment."

"Only if the egg's been incubating for the last ten years, or I'm bearing the second coming of Christ," Rachel responded lightly. She took the prescription as he laughed.

"Very good, although a very wise rabbi once said 'Pray for impurity.' Now, about Jack's tantrum last night. _If_ it happens again, he's supposed to get as far from you as possible and call me right away. _You_, now, I want _you_ to do what you need to in order to get yourself to safety. If you have to hurt Jack to do it, by all means, hurt him."

Rachel's eyes were wide. "Doctor, I don't want to _hurt_ Jack!"

"You may need to, Rachel. If you'd given him a good punch to the jaw last night, it might have knocked some sense into him."

"Or made him angrier."

"That's also a possibility, but it may have saved your lip. Go to a neighbour's, get out in public, do what you need to. As for Jack, he's supposed to get away from you if he starts to lose his temper, and then call me. Do you understand? This is for your own protection, Rachel."

She sighed. "I understand."

"Good. I also want you to work on Jack's social skills. Take him out in public more --- nowhere where he has to interact with people, just where he's near them. He needs to get used to them being around him before he can get used to actually dealing with them."

Rachel nodded. "All right. That shouldn't be a problem."

"Mm. Now, he told you he loves you last night, correct?"

Rachel nodded as her cheeks warmed. "He did. The sedative was kicking in . . . He asked if he could say it right after he told me. I told him he could say whatever he wanted."

"And then you bathed him?"

Rachel was bright red. "Well . . . he needed it. Oh God, was he awake?"

"He said he remembered water, that's all . . . he was put out that he missed seeing you naked. And this Alfred, Bruce Wayne's butler?"

"My mother worked for Bruce's parents," Rachel explained. "Bruce and I have been friends since we were little. We moved out of Wayne Manor after his parents died, but Bruce and I stayed in touch. Alfred's like a father to me. To Bruce, too. I wanted to make sure that Alfred approved of Jack before Bruce met him."

"Understandable. You seem to place a lot of value in Mr. Wayne's opinion of Jack."

"He's my best friend," Rachel reasoned cautiously. "Of course I want him to like Jack. He's also holding a grudge against the Joker," she admitted when she got raised eyebrows. "He . . . well . . ."

"Does he love you?"

Rachel dropped her forehead into one palm as she nodded. "I think he always has. He's seen me twice with Jack, and . . . well, we argued after the first time, and he called me a traitorous slut, or something to that effect. It was just last month that he apologised. Alfred threatened to poison him if he didn't."

"That's going to be a hard grudge to overcome."

"Are you hoping I'll add him to your client list?" Rachel asked sardonically as she raised her head.

Dr. Morgenson laughed. "Hardly. So, we have two men who are in love with you, Rachel. Who are _you_ in love with?"

She sighed and licked the last of her lip-gloss away. "I . . . Doctor . . ."

"If you're not in love with Jack, you need to tell him," Morgenson said gently. "And if you _are_, you still need to tell him. He's not liking this vacuum he's in, and it's going to start affecting him badly in the near future. And don't you think he deserves to know either way?"

"He does, I'm just . . . I'm not sure I'm ready to take that, that plunge. I think _I'm_ still hung up on his past," Rachel admitted quietly.

Morgenson sat back in his chair and folded his hands across his stomach. "Right now, Jack will do almost anything you ask, simply because he wants to keep you near him. He's terrified you'll never want to see him again. Your affection this morning, and finding him last night, both helped to assure him that you won't leave him alone, but it's still something he's insecure about. Are you willing to date him, Rachel? Without telling anyone?"

"Alfred agreed with you on that point," Rachel said as she slumped lower.

"You don't _have_ to sleep with him if you choose to make your relationship official, if that's what you're worried about. I said as much to Jack. He's desperately lonely for intimate contact, but I guarantee he won't push it very often."

"I can't guarantee I'll be able to turn him down," she murmured. "Jack's not the only one who's lonely."

"And you don't want your loneliness to cloud your judgment?"

"No, I don't."

"Well," Morgenson said briskly, "it's my professional opinion that it would be good for both of you. I think that in some ways, you're better for Jack than Harleen was. She got him started on the road to recovery, you might say, but you're able to show him what a real relationship is supposed to be like. I'm not saying what he shared with Harleen wasn't real, but . . . it was at a different level, and he's progressed past that level. Do you understand?" Rachel nodded. "Good. Now, go to the drugstore, get that prescription filled, buy condoms, and go talk to Jack. And don't forget to keep me posted," Morgenson said as he stood.

Rachel got up, as well, and nodded again. "All right. Thank you, Doctor."

"It's no problem," he said as he walked her to the door. "Take care, Rachel."

"I will, thank you." As soon as she was in the car she dialed Harvey's parents' number.

"Hello?"

"Judy, it's Rachel."

"Rachel, dear, how are you? Is everything all right?"

She bit her lip as she pulled into traffic. "Everything's fine, Judy. Look, my birthday's next month, and . . ." She sighed. "Well, do you and Bill _want_ to come? I don't mind if you do, but . . . it occurred to me that maybe you were showing up because you thought I needed you there."

She winced at the way the words came out, and Judy was quiet for so long that Rachel was afraid she'd offended the woman. Finally, "Actually . . . Bill and I were thinking of going on holiday next month. He just retired, you know . . . If you don't mind, Rachel? You know we care about you . . ."

Rachel blinked tears from her eyes; she'd need to reapply her eyeliner at the very least. "No, please, go on your vacation," she said through the tears. "Have fun. I just . . . I didn't want you to show up just because you felt obligated to."

There were tears in Judy's voice. "Oh, Rachel . . . Bill and I love you, you know that. And . . . thank you, dear. Thank you."

"It's no problem," Rachel forced out. "I'll, uhm . . . I'll talk to you later, then," she said brightly.

"Of course. Give our regards to Bruce and Alfred."

"I will. Have a good trip, Judy. Tell Bill I said hello."

"I will; we will. . . . Goodbye, Rachel."

"Goodbye, Judy." Rachel wiped at her eyes as the line went dead, wiping at her eyes lest she get into an accident and feeling like a door somewhere in her heart had just closed. She hadn't realised how much she'd still been clinging to Harvey's memory, how she'd been using Bill and Judy as an excuse to keep from moving on. She still woke up at night and reached for him, sometimes, and it hurt, it hurt _so much_ to be finally letting him go, but the pain was bittersweet and a little relieving. It was . . . it was closure, and Rachel found herself looking forward to Jack's warm embrace to cry into as she let the past go.

********

**A/N: **Okay, let's get back to some reviews and questions and stuff. Once again, thank you all so much for your support! You're made of awesome and win, you are. I'd like to reitterate that I've already completed Speak, and I'm updating as I update the sequel (no, you don't get to know where I'm posting it, because I'm mean). So, I'm not using anyone's suggestions as to what to put in the fic, but thank you for them anyway. ^_^

There's going to be a confrontation with Batman, don't worry! As for you readers who haven't read much Joker/Rachel fanfiction, I'm especially happy that you're enjoying Speak so much. I'm also glad that my idea for a post-TDK Jack is an original one. ^_^

So . . . thank you, and I'll have chapter 10 up as soon as I can. ^_^


	10. Chapter 10

She stared at the assortment of condoms on sale and bit the inside of her cheek. Really, it shouldn't be _this_ hard to buy the damned things. Just grab one and go. But . . . was that packet _raspberry_ flavoured? Ribbed? Lubricated? Extra large? Her head was hurting from it all.

"_Rachel_, I didn't know you shopped _this_ section of Walgreen's!"

She let out an audible groan at that too-cheerful voice, wishing Hideki a thousand years in hell. He draped his arm over her shoulder, grinning from ear to ear.

"Planning a special night, huh?"

"_No_," she hissed, "I'm _not_. I'm waiting for a prescription to be filled, that's all."

"Oh, honey, you don't want _that_ brand," he said of the raspberry condoms. "They taste nasty. This selection is terrible, anyway. Hey, why don't we go to Susie's? We'll get lots of fun condoms. Want some glow-in-the-dark ones? I've got some in the car --- I don't usually share _those_, but I'll make an exception for my favourite fag-hag."

"Do _not_ call me that!" Rachel snapped as she glared at him. "And I do _not_ need glow-in-the-dark condoms!"

"Trust me, Rachel, for some guys you _need_ them." He was nodding with such a serious, knowing look on his face that Rachel had to laugh.

"All right, all right, pick me some out. Nothing fancy. And no, I don't plan on using them. They're just . . . a precaution."

"_Finally_!" he chortled with glee, humming as his hand hovered over a pack. "Do you know how big he is?"

"_No_!" Rachel squealed.

"Hey, just asking. They make extra large for a reason. Well, _I'm_ not the reason, but . . . shut up!" he ordered as Rachel laughed. He brushed his hair out of his face and grabbed the pack. "One? Two? Three to a pack; how about two, just in case. Just in case! Guy hasn't been laid in what, eight months? Trust me, you go to bed with him and you won't get _any _rest." Rachel was covering her crimson face, the tears streaming from her eyes tears of laughter this time, and her stomach was hurting from it.

"Wh, what are you _doing_ here, Hideki?" she gasped out.

"I live down the street. What, can't I go to my neighbourhood Walgreen's? Maybe I'm also killing time so I can be passing the police station just as Raoul's off work, but I could be lying about that. I don't think so, though."

"Fine, but you're buying those for me."

Hideki frowned at her. "Rachel, there's no need to be _embarrassed_ about buying condoms. In fact, more people _should_. I mean, be _proud_ that you're choosing to have safer sex! _I'm _proud of you." He hugged her and she shoved him away.

"Your charm won't work on _me_," she claimed. "Go ooze all over Raoul." Hideki's face went white with shock, then he started shaking and Rachel stared at him, unable to understand --- oh. _Oh_. Hideki was turning purple as he tried to hold his howls of laughter in, crouched on the ground and rocking back and forth. Rachel shoved past him and stalked off as he fell over, gasping for air as he tried not to make too much noise. "F . . . just . . . piss off, Hideki," she snapped as she stepped into the next aisle and raised her hands to her cheeks. They burned so much she thought her hands might catch on fire. He was _never_ going to let her live _that_ one down.

Rachel checked her watch and went back to the pharmacist, who handed her the pills and gave her brief instructions after she paid. By the time she'd gotten back to Hideki, he'd gotten himself under control. He looked at her, though, and started laughing again.

"Are you ready, jerk?" she asked irritably.

He nodded, wiping the tears from his eyes as he linked his arm through hers and walked her to the cash register, where he proudly plopped the two packs of condoms down. The girl there just raised her eyebrows at his laughing face and rang him up.

"Thanks," he told her cheerfully. "Can't be too safe, huh?"

"No, you can't," she agreed as Hideki took Rachel's hand.

"Come on, _dear_," he snickered.

Rachel snatched the bag from him, still blushing. "I _hate_ you," she told him. "You're _fired_. Clear your desk tomorrow and get out of my life."

"Oh, you love me, Rachel, you know you do!"

"I do not," she muttered, but his giggles were infectious and she started smiling.

"See? All right, all right, go visit lover-boy. I'll see you tomorrow --- I mean, unless you're coming out with me and Raoul tonight."

"Not tonight," Rachel said. "Some other time."

"I'll hold you to it," he promised. "Have fun."

"You, too." Rachel slid into her car and put one of the condom packs into her purse, then took the birth control pills out and took the first one with the last of her water. Morgenson had prescribed her pills that had less estrogen, or something like that. They supposedly wouldn't make her hormones freak out as much. She closed her eyes and leaned her head against the head-rest, taking deep breaths to calm her racing heart. She could do this. She could face Jack, his gentle kisses, his pleading touches, his violent tantrums . . . he was different. He wasn't the same as he used to be. He'd come so far, and she wanted to help him to be even better. Rachel thought her heart would burst every time she ached to reach out and hold him but stopped for fear of where it might lead, but maybe that place wasn't as bad as she thought it would be. Maybe it was time to find out.

She snorted as she pulled out of the parking lot and headed to Jack's. Who was she kidding? She'd just been delaying the inevitable, and if she'd given in earlier, maybe she wouldn't have hurt Jack so much the previous night. Maybe he wouldn't have hurt _her_. That didn't make it her fault by a long shot, but still . . . Rachel tapped her foot impatiently as she waited in the elevator, then ran down the hall to Jack's apartment and rapped on the door.

"Jack!" she called. "Open up!" There were a few more seconds of nervous shifting, then the door opened to a slightly puzzled-looking Jack. Rachel slid inside and shut the door, then pulled him against her and wrapped her arms around his shoulders as she pressed their lips together.

Jack's eyes crossed as his arms went around her waist, but he wasn't about to question her demanding kisses. Their tongues met and he moaned when she ran her thumbs over his scars, edging one knee between hers. Rachel arched into the contact, reveled in it, and when she grabbed his collar and kissed down the side of his neck, his knees trembled.

"Tell me what you told me last night," she whispered in his ear.

"Huh? I . . . what?"

His higher functions . . . well, weren't. Rachel pushed him away from her and he whined in the back of his throat, grabbing on to her upper arms to pull her close.

"Tell me, Jack. What you told me last night. I want to hear it again."

"I didn't mean to," he whispered hoarsely. "I mean, not like that."

"_Tell me_," Rachel urged again. Jack stared at her with his head tilted, blinking, then licked his lips.

"I love you," he whispered. Rachel thought she was going to cry as she nodded.

"I love you, too, Jack."

Jack stared at her, and she hadn't thought he could look any more dumbfounded but he managed it, his jaw dropped and his eyes bugged out and he spluttered for a moment, then Rachel was pulling him back against her and then he was kissing her before he started whooping with laughter, picking her up and swinging her around and around and Rachel was laughing, too, because it felt so damned _good_ to finally say, to finally admit it and have it out there.

She was crushed against Jack again and whined at the pain in her bruised lip, but ignored it and held on tight when he tried to pull back. She didn't know if he meant to or not, but suddenly they both dropped to the couch and she was on top of him, his hands pushing under her shirt and over her back, fingers digging into her skin. She gasped at the contact, then he was pushing her away gently, just far enough so he could see her clearly and brush his fingers against her cheek.

"What?" she asked breathlessly. "You look like you've never seen me before."

"I haven't," he replied softly. His gaze was hungry as it roamed over her face, then he licked his lips and Rachel's stomach tightened pleasantly. "Tell me again," he whispered.

"I love you," she whispered back. She wasn't aware that she was crying until tears dripped onto his cheeks and his brows puckered, one hand gently brushing the wetness away.

"Why are you crying?"

"I'm . . . Oh, God . . ." Rachel lowered her head to Jack's chest as she started sobbing, and even though he was clearly bewildered, he wrapped his arms around her and held her tightly. "I'm sorry," she whispered, "I'm so sorry."

"About what?" he asked. "Rachel, what's wrong?"

"Just . . . don't let me go," she begged.

"I won't," he promised, squeezing her more tightly.

He held her and kissed the top of her head until she'd calmed down and lay with her cheek against his chest, right in the big damp spot she'd made on his shirt, and he was stroking her hair gently.

"I called Harvey's," and she hiccuped past the tears, "parents today."

"O . . . kay . . ." He was unsure of what to say.

"I told them, I told them they didn't have to come to my birthday party." It ended in a whine and she took a few quick, deep breaths to keep the tears at bay before explaining. "They've been coming every year since . . . since he died." Since the Joker had set him up to die. "I'm just . . . we're all just moving on finally, I guess. But it hurts so much . . ."

Jack tilted her head up, his brown eyes sorrowful. "I'm sorry, Rachel," he whispered, showing remorse for his past actions for perhaps the first time. "I'm . . . I'm sorry."

"It's over, now," Rachel told him, cradling his face in her hands. She ran her fingers over his scars and when he once would have pulled away, now he leaned into the touch, a smile blossoming over his lips. She kissed those lips gently, and he responded just as gently, and then she pulled away with a smile. "Let's go out to eat," she suggested. "I know a place, it's quiet and there's never many people there. Can you handle that?"

"I'd shake Batman's hand if you wanted me to," he murmured as he traced his fingers over her skin. "Hell, I'd _kiss_ him."

Rachel giggled. "Your crush on Batman has nothing to do with this."

She got a shrug. "I always had a thing for flying rodents . . ." That made her laugh and then his lips were against hers once again. "But I think I prefer D.A.'s."

"Oh, good," she moaned softly.

It was another half hour before they left the apartment.

***

"So, Alfred bought me a new suit and said he'd put me on the guest list," Jack finished before taking a bite of his pie. "I'm still not sure Mr. Wayne will be happy about me being there."

Rachel smiled as she sipped at her root beer float. Jack was eating left-handed again, his right hand entwined with her left. "Alfred will find a way to bring it up, and I'll talk with him once he gets back from Vegas. And hey, straighten up. No one's going to steal your food."

Jack looked down at his plate, then up at Rachel as he slowly straightened. "Old habit."

"Well, I can see you much better when you're not slouched over." She managed not to laugh when he straightened to his full height, just squeezed his hand with another warm smile.

"I can see down your shirt now, too," Jack said, then his expression froze in one of horror and as Rachel raised her eyebrows, slightly shocked, he waved one hand in front of her face. "Ah . . . these are not the 'droids you're looking for."

He looked so utterly mortified by what he'd obviously not meant to say out loud that Rachel had to laugh as she shifted her shoulders, trying not to pull her neckline higher.

"See?" she managed with a teasing lilt. "There are benefits to good posture."

"I am . . . _well_ aware of that at the moment." He coughed and turned his face to the side, but his gaze kept sliding back to her cleavage and Rachel was flattered. "I'm sorry, Rachel, I'm not _trying_ to stare. They're just . . . they're just _there_, and I _like_ them, and they're very distracting." His tongue was flicking over his lips --- he had the tendency to do that when he was getting aroused.

"Jack," Rachel said as she reached out, tipping his chin up so he met her gaze. She cradled his cheek in her palm then, fingers rubbing his scars gently, and he closed his eyes with a sigh.

"Oh, that's nice, too. Not _as_ nice, but you don't have to stop." His inner monologue had the tendency to cross over to his verbal monologue, which Rachel found highly amusing. "Harleen rarely touched my scars," Jack confided softly after a few moments.

"_I_ like them," Rachel told him. He raised his eyebrows at her and she nodded as she traced the curl of the one on his right cheek. "They remind me of how far you've come in ten years."

The restaurant was starting to fill up, and Jack looked around before covering Rachel's hand with his. "Look, Rachel . . . Would you stay over tonight?" His gaze flicked from the side to her own as he tilted his cheek into her palm and caressed her fingers. "I just have this horrible feeling that this is all a dream, and if I wake up and you're not there, I'll know it was. I won't touch you, I promise."

He smiled hopefully at her, and Rachel couldn't refuse, but there was one thing she needed to make clear. Not once in the eight months since Harleen's death had Jack _ever_ let her into their bedroom --- the door was always shut when she was over, and he always referred to it as "our" bedroom. "I left your book in our room; stay here." "The doorknob to our room is loose; will you pick me up some screws so I can fix it?" She knew that it was the one place that Jack let himself keep Harleen alive in, and Rachel was hesitant to assume she'd been invited into the dead woman's domain.

"I don't think the couch will fit both of us," she said after a moment. Jack's tongue flicked over his lips again, probing at them, and Rachel's whole body tensed. When he did it again, slower, she knew he knew full well the effect it had on her, and that it pleased him.

"I wasn't planning on us sleeping there," he murmured against her palm, then kissed it firmly. Rachel's eyes crossed slightly as her hand tried to clench, but Jack held it open so he could kiss it again. "Please, Rachel."

She swallowed as her heart raced. "I have to get up for work in the morning."

His dark eyes never left her face. "So do I."

Rachel stared at him as the thought occurred to her that if she stayed the night tonight, no matter where she started she was going to end up in his bed, and something intimate was going to happen. One of them was going to snuggle up to the other, and then they'd start to touch, and then lips and tongues and fingers were going to explore places they'd never been, and Rachel also knew that she was going to let it happen.

So she smiled at Jack and pulled her hand away from his face, looking around for their waiter. He'd been excellent all evening, not bothering them unless a few plates needed to be cleared, or their drinks were in desperate need of refills.

"We'd better get going, then," she murmured. "I need to get my work clothes and toothbrush from my place."

Their waiter walked up and set the bill down silently as Jack grinned and sat back. He pulled out his wallet as Rachel reached into her purse.

"Let me pay, Rachel," he insisted.

"Jack, you don't ---"

"I can afford to pay tonight," he interrupted gently. "Please, let me pay."

He had the same look Alfred got when there was no way she was going to win, so Rachel sat back and just smiled as Jack very meticulously pulled out a few bills. He looked down at the bill, his eyes narrowed, and the tip he left was sure to make the waiter his very best friend the next time they came in.

Jack looked up at her approving face. "I like a man who knows when to leave me be," he said as he stood and reached for Rachel's hand. She took it and stood, not letting go as he escorted her out of the restaurant. He even turned back to the hostess as he held the door open for her and smiled slightly. "Thank you."

She seemed surprised. "You're very welcome. Have a good night."

"We will," Jack said quietly as he put his hand at the small of Rachel's back. It was a very possessive gesture, but she supposed he had the right, at the moment, to act that way. He was, in a very romance-novel-cliche sort of way, going to make her his tonight.

Rachel's toes curled with the thought as they got into her car and headed to her apartment.

********

**A/N:** Dum dee dum . . . so I went through a harrowing search for Maggie Gyllenhaal's eye colour, and decided it was green, so Rachel has green eyes in Speak and Sing.

Maggie Gyllenhaal, for those of you who don't know, has blue eyes.

I'm a dork.

Also, _yes_, I've started posting the sequel to this, but not on . I need to finish posting Speak, _then_ I'll start posting Sing, and if you really want to find me on teh intarwebs (tubes, darn it, tubes!), I'm sure you will. ^_^

Much love to all my wonderful readers, and if you live in the United States and voted, you rock. If you're a lazy bum and didn't, you forfeit your right to bitch about this country until you get off your lazy ass and vote. So there.


	11. Chapter 11

"You know, that staring's _really_ getting unnerving."

Jack's smile broadened and all he did was blink. "I'm just afraid that if I look away, you'll disappear."

"Well, here." She took his hand and squeezed it. "Now you can look away."

"Can you drive with one hand?"

"Sure." He enveloped her hand with both of his, turning it about, rubbing it gently. Rachel knew that Jack tended not to believe it when good things happened to him, so she let him be as they drove in silence. She ran down a mental checklist to see what she needed to do in the next day or so, since she had the feeling that she would probably be spending the weekend at Jack's. She'd tell Hideki that if for some reason someone had to come get her, she'd be there if she wasn't at home; she had her pills in her purse, and she'd brought her razor, deodorant, and toothbrush. Her apartment was between work and his place, anyway, if she needed to pick up more clothes tomorrow.

As for any possible (probable) intimacy between them, she knew that Jack was in perfect physical health --- she'd had to take him to a few monthly appointments, ignoring his quips about how good he looked in Gotham General's nurse's outfit. When he'd started singing "Dude, Looks Like a Lady," though, she'd told him to shut up. She'd just gotten her yearly check-up in the last few months, and everything was just fine; no surprise there. She would have to be having sex, as she'd told her gynecologist, in order to get an infection. Dr. Wong had just laughed.

Were all her cases in order? She'd have to make sure of that tomorrow, since there was no way she'd take them to Jack's to work on over the weekend. She had her cell phone charger . . . She was fairly certain she had everything she needed for the time being.

Including Jack, whose shirt was coming off as soon as they were in the door.

Rachel took a deep breath and let it out as she corrected _that _errant thought. No, it _wasn't_ going to come off --- oh, please? --- no, that was jumping to conclusions --- oh, _really_? --- _yes, **really**_. So shut up.

Jack jumped a little when Rachel had to slam on the brakes in order to make the turn onto his street, and he stared at her with raised eyebrows.

"I'm sorry," she said sheepishly. "Wasn't paying attention."

"If I could legally drive, I'd make you let me," he muttered. She'd convinced him to sell Harleen's car three months ago, in order to help pay for rent. Rachel had also considered suggesting he move into a smaller place, but he wasn't quite ready to let Harleen go; not to that extent.

"Hideki's going to review your parole," Rachel said as she shut the car off. Jack got out and slung her overnight bag over his shoulder, looking politely interested. "He might be able to get a few things changed."

Jack took her hand and pulled her close, his lips right behind her ear. "I'll have to thank him if he can."

Rachel shivered. "Well, I think that after five years, it's about time. I doubt you'll be put in charge of an elderly care home or anything, but you'll be able to do more."

"Hey, I _like_ the elderly."

"Because they're crunchy and good with ketchup?"

He laughed. "Exactly." He was unzipping her bag as they got on the elevator, then his eyebrows went up. "Purple panties?" He pulled them out with one finger, then held them away from Rachel when she tried to grab at them.

"Jack! Put those back!"

"No, no, purple's my favourite colour. You're so thoughtful, Rachel." He held them to his waist as she laughed. "I think they'll look great on me."

"_Jack_! They're not for _you_ to wear!"

He was laughing at her when the elevator stopped and the doors slid open. They both whipped around, Jack hiding her panties behind his back as a middle-aged woman stepped into the elevator. Rachel was blushing, she knew, and Jack gave the woman a cheerful smile.

"Good evening, Mrs. Ruiz. How are you tonight?" Rachel could hear the rumours flying already as the short woman peered at them with a frown. "Mrs. Ruiz lives three doors down from me, Rachel," Jack went on. "I'm sorry; Mrs. Ruiz, this is Rachel. Rachel, Mrs. Ruiz."

She could have elbowed him as she offered her hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

The woman stared at them both some more before she spoke. "I hear your cat this morning," she told Jack. "It was meowing, meowing."

Jack shook his head. "Rory rarely meows, Mrs. Ruiz. It couldn't have been him."

She shook her head. "No! Always, it is meowing when I pass!"

"All right, Mrs. Ruiz. I'll talk to him about it." He got glared at and just grinned as the elevator stopped at their floor. "After you, Mrs. Ruiz."

The woman stalked down the hallway, grumbling to herself, and Jack was obviously trying not to laugh as he shoved Rachel's panties back into her bag and then took her hand.

"I think she hears voices," he whispered to Rachel. She turned a disbelieving look on him. "No, I really do. I was out on the balcony a few days ago and she started yelling about Rory meowing again, and he wasn't even outside. Not everyone who hears voices is dangerous, you know. I had a friend . . ."

He trailed off with a frown and Rachel leaned into him. "You had a friend . . . ?"

"I . . . never mind. It's gone now." Jack shook his head sharply, as he was prone to do when his memory glitched on him, and then dug for his keys. "I was so wrapped up with your pretty panties that I didn't get the keys out." He grinned at her, tilting his hips in her direction. "Wanna help find 'em?"

Rachel just smiled at him as she drew nearer, placing one hand on his hip. Jack obviously hadn't expected her to take him up on his offer and he stiffened a little, almost taking a step back. She hooked her finger through a belt-loop and pulled him close, her hand creeping down to the pocket of the slacks he was wearing while her other hand crawled up his chest. She could feel his heart pounding, watched him lick his lips nervously, and then she plucked the keys from his shirt pocket with a laugh. She whirled to the door and unlocked it, diving inside before he had the chance to react.

"That's not _fair_!" Jack exclaimed as he pushed the door shut and locked it. Rory was laying under the couch, only the fronts of his paws and his reflective eyes showing.

Rachel was sitting cross-legged on the couch, laughing. "I'm not going to go digging around your pants when I _watched_ you put your keys in your shirt," she told him. "Besides, that's what you _get_ for starting rumours."

"What rumours did I start?" he whined as he plopped down next to her, his arm around her shoulders. Then he jerked his legs off the floor. "_Fuck_! You god damned fucking _cat_!"

"Aww, did Rory get your poor little feetsies?"

"_Yes_," Jack mumbled into his knees as he drew them to his chest, rubbing his ankles, "that asshole _did_. And what rumours did I start?"

"Mrs. Ruiz is probably going to tell _everyone_ she can find that I was at your apartment at . . . almost ten at night, _with_ an overnight bag."

"I was carrying it; she might think it was mine."

"Because you didn't come home last night, and then I dropped you off. She'll think you stayed at my place. Well, you did, but still." Rachel rolled her eyes at him and he ran his fingers across the back of her neck and up her throat, tilting her head to look at him.

"Does that bother you?" His brown eyes were serious, and Rachel brushed his bangs from his face.

"I don't like rumours on principle, but no, not really." Then she yawned and Jack stole a kiss as her mouth was closing. "Ah!"

"Come on, it's past your bed-time." He put his feet very cautiously on the floor, well out of reach of Rory's claws, and pulled Rachel up after him.

"Yes, Daddy," she said playfully.

"You're only calling me Daddy if you're dressed like a schoolgirl and your hands are tied behind your back." He winced before glancing at her surprised face. "Oh, come on. I promise, I've never had schoolgirl fantasies about you."

"I don't believe you," she told him.

"Well, I might be lying about that." He paused right outside his bedroom and took her in his arms, hugging her tightly. He was preparing himself to let her into this last sanctuary, and Rachel just hugged him back as she waited for him to be ready. Finally he sighed and pressed his lips into her hair. "Come on."

Rachel was afraid to go into the bedroom. She had the ridiculous notion that Harleen, or possibly her ghost, would be waiting, her lips pursed in a disapproving line as she surveyed this intruder into her and Jack's life. She shook her head slightly and squeezed his arm, smiling up at him as he opened the door.

She shivered a little, both from the thrill of finally being in Jack's most private space, and also because he kept the room fairly chilly. The queen-sized bed was made with military precision, the only indicator of which side Jack slept on being the wedding picture of him and Harleen on the left side of the bed, his wedding band hanging from one of the decorative curls on the frame's edges. Rachel knew that if she opened the closet she would find Jack's clothes hung up neatly on the left, and Harleen's still hanging on the right.

"Does it pass muster?" Jack murmured in her ear.

Rachel looked at him in surprise. "I'm sorry?"

"Does it pass muster?" His tone said he was joking, but the look on his face said otherwise as he moved to the bed and flicked the bedside lamp on. He pursed his lips slightly when Rory sauntered in and hopped up onto the bed, but he made no move to oust the feline.

Rachel stayed where she was, taking another look around the room, and she nodded with a smile. "Of course it does."

"Close the door." He stayed where he was, facing her with his head slightly between his shoulders, his voice never leaving a murmur. After Rachel had obeyed he held her overnight bag out, then gestured with his head to another door. "You can change."

"Glad to have permission," Rachel managed to say clearly. He twisted his wrist to keep their hands from touching as she took her bag, and she puzzled over it as she opened the bathroom door. It was an exceedingly feminine place, and still smelled of a woman's perfume. It shouldn't have, not even if he'd kept the door closed for eight months, so he must be spraying Harleen's perfume in it every once in a while. Rachel's throat closed as she got undressed and pulled her nightgown on. She shouldn't be here. No matter how Jack thought he felt, no matter how she herself felt, Harleen was still a very obvious part of his daily life and she had no right to be taking that away from him. It felt like . . . like she was desecrating the woman's memory.

Rachel brushed her teeth, staring into the mirror as she obviously stalled for time. She and Jack, playfully using a spare toothbrush, had brushed their teeth at her apartment, and the cozy warmth that had existed between them in that smaller space was a far cry from how Rachel currently felt. Despite her earlier certainty of what would happen between them tonight, Rachel was having second thoughts.

She jumped when Jack's voice came through the door. "Rachel, if I didn't want you to be here, I wouldn't have asked you to stay over." The door shifted as he leaned against it and she thought he sighed. "If I wasn't sure --- _absolutely_ sure --- that this was what I wanted, don't you know I wouldn't have said anything?" Rachel placed her palm against the door as she blinked tears from her eyes. "I know I'm not over Harleen; it's only been eight months, after all. . . . I know I'm not ready to let her go, but I also know that I need you with me. And if you're not comfortable with this, Rachel, you don't have to . . ."

He trailed off as Rachel opened the door, tears still shining in her eyes. "I'm sorry, Jack," she said softly. "I just . . . I don't want to be rushing you. It seems like a lot of people are trying to push you into forgetting about Harleen, and I ---"

"Dr. Morgenson is pushing me to move on because I'll obsess over it until I go crazy if he doesn't. He doesn't want me to forget about her --- _I _don't want to forget about her --- but we've talked about it a lot." He put his hands on her hips and pulled her closer, but not quite to the point of their bodies touching. "I don't . . . dwell on death," he murmured as he lowered his head to hers, his breath warm in her ear. "To me, people just . . . go away. They're not there any more, is all. The only reason I notice Harleen's gone is because she was in every aspect of my life, and I keep her things in here so that I can remember her when I start to forget."

"Jack, you're not ---"

"No, I'm like that," he said firmly. "I miss her, I do. But I'm stuck between obsessing over her being gone and not really noticing. I don't have much middle ground in _anything_." Rachel swallowed and rested her hands on his biceps. He'd changed into jeans, but had taken his shirt off and her fingers curled around smooth flesh that was criss-crossed with tiny scars. "Children react that way to death, Dr. Morgenson said. I guess it's something I never grew out of." He was quiet for a moment and Rachel lay her head on his shoulder, eyes tracing a scar that looked as if a bullet had just grazed his arm, and he gently pulled her hair out of its ponytail to run his fingers through it. "So if you're thinking that you're intruding into Harleen's shrine, well, you are, but only because I want you to. If anyone's getting pushed into something, I think it's you." She raised her head and he traced his thumb over her jawline. "I want you," he said simply. "And I'm used to taking what I want. I could have Harleen any time I wanted her, but with you I've had to wait, I've had to patient, and I'm tired of being patient. I don't want to wait any more." Jack took a deep breath, his chest brushing against hers and making Rachel take a quick, hissing breath of her own. "So if you're not ready for this, or you're uncomfortable at all, let me know. I _can_ be patient, if you need me to be."

Rachel took a moment to digest his words as he waited, forehead resting against hers. "Last night," she started, then cleared her throat. "I meant to lay down some boundaries for us last night," she continued. "I _meant_ to tell you that all we could be was friends, because of my position and your past; they just don't logically mix. The rumours that a relationship between us would cause, the press attention, the paparazzi . . . that's not something I want for either of us. If my argument with Bruce was any indication, we're not going to get any peace once people find out, and they _will_ find out. But for all of that, I want to be with you, Jack. I thought Dr. Morgenson was crazy to ask that I visit you after Harleen died, but now I can't imagine life without you."

"Alfred likes me, too," Jack murmured as he made the small forward movement to press his body against hers, pushing her gently back against the bathroom door. He lowered his lips to her neck and traced them gently over her pulse.

His warm, moist breath made all her hair stand on end and Rachel gasped softly, which prompted a small chuckle. She laughed breathlessly. "Yes, and Alfred likes you, too. Between him and Dr. Morgenson, I don't have much of a choice in seeing you." She arched her neck and back as he slid his leg between hers and brought his hands back to her hips, lifting her up slightly. "But they just . . . a-ahhh . . . just gave me permission to do what I already wanted to do . . ."

Rachel sucked her breath in as she wrapped her leg around Jack's waist and he continued kissing her neck, then moved down to her collarbone. He'd worked the skirt of her nightgown up around her hips and then ghosted his hands across her rump, ending at her thighs and pulling her other leg up, as well. She clenched her fists in his hair, panting as she kept his lips at chest level and as he pressed his hips into hers he groaned softly, the muscles of his shoulders tight as he took her thin shoulder straps in his teeth and moved them down her arms. She ached for him to touch her and whispered his name as his thrusts came a little harder, a little more rhythmically. Rather than waiting for him to do it, she wriggled her arms and shoulders until she'd gotten them free of the straps and Jack drew back, a little startled, as her nightgown fell from her breasts.

"There _is_ a God," he whispered as he stared at them, "and you are _perfection_."

Then his mouth and tongue were on her and Rachel cried out at the sensations. She had to shift just a little to get him to kiss where she wanted, then pull his head hard against her, but he took the hint and nibbled gently. Then Jack moved her hips a little with every few thrusts of his own, and she was distracted by it, wondering what he was doing until _-oh!-_ he hit a spot that _-ah!-_ that had her crying out his name _-God, yes, please Jack, don't stop-_ and between his lips and his thrusting that perfect, perfect spot he had her well on her way to her peak.

Rachel wasn't prepared when Jack suddenly bit her shoulder and then pushed them away from the door and walked backward, and she looked at him with bleary, wild eyes until he sat on the bed and she was straddling his lap. Then she understood, and raised her arms when he gathered her nightgown up in his fists and lifted, letting him pull it up and over her head. She giggled when his eyes crossed as he returned his attention to her body, and all he did was smile and chuckle as his hand ran up her back, then his nails were digging gently into her skin on the way back down.

"There's a reason I put jeans on," he grunted into her ear, still pulling their hips together with Rachel's enthusiastic assistance. Rachel couldn't think of what that reason was until he kept talking, one hand exploring where his lips had already been. "I don't have protection."

But _she_ did. Rachel threw her head back and gasped again. She dug her nails into Jack's back and he gave a startled cry even as he pushed back into the pain it must be causing him. That was right, she didn't have to be careful because he _liked_ the pain. Jack flipped her onto her back and she wrapped her legs around his waist as her thoughts flashed not only to the packet of condoms in her purse, but also to what Morgenson had told her and what she'd reminded herself: having condoms didn't mean she had to have sex. She dug her nails into his skin again and again he gasped, this time covering her mouth with his own and she met his tongue eagerly, raising her hips to meet his as best she could.

Jack paused after one particularly hard thrust, panting, then pulled away and started kissing down her throat, over her breasts, easing her panties down her thighs as he worked his way down her body. Rachel whined in protest and whispered pleas for him to come back up to her, but he ignored them, sliding one hand between her legs and waiting to make sure she wasn't going to protest before pushing two fingers gently inside of her. Rachel almost screamed and arched her hips up because yes, this was _so _much better than what he'd been doing, so _very_ much better and oh, _oh_, was that his _tongue_ joining in?! She threw her head back again and let out a choked scream, grasping fistfuls of his hair while he hummed to himself as he worked on her. Harleen must have taught Jack how to do what he was doing, and _-mm!-_ Rachel sent her thanks and praises, wishing her a seat at the right hand of God for her thoughtfulness. There were a few things he could work on, but this was the best a man had made her feel in a long, long time.

Rachel's back arched off the bed and she swore she heard Jack giggle gleefully as she came, crying his name out. Her whole body was shaking, and he didn't seem like he was about to stop. No, no, he wasn't, he kept running his tongue over her, all over her, and with every swipe against her clit she cried out again, arched up into his mouth again and again and again until all she could do was tense at the feel of his tongue against her and whimper.

Then and only then did Jack slide back up her body, licking his lips with a huge grin on his face. He reached across her and came back with a tissue in his hand, wiping himself clean before kissing her lightly. Rachel draped her arms around his shoulders as she returned his kiss, unsure if her fingers were sliding through sweat, blood, or both. She didn't know how hard she'd scratched him, but he made a pleased sound deep in his throat and then moved his lips next to her ear as he tucked a sweaty strand of hair behind it.

"You taste _wonderful_," he murmured. Then he kissed just in front of her ear and drew back enough to look her over carefully. "Are you all right?"

"Mm . . . perfect . . ." she whispered, still running her hands over his back appreciatively. He felt so igood/i against her skin. Then she blinked once or twice and one hand fell to his hip. "Are you . . . ?"

Jack laughed softly. "I'm _just fine_," he assured her. "That's the other reason I'm wearing pants. Better to make a mess in them than on you."

He'd already . . . ? . . . Oh, he had, hadn't he? Rachel hadn't even realised it at the time. She smiled at him as he settled down next to her, resting his head on her shoulder. She curled toward him and Jack nuzzled her skin before kissing her, giving a contented sigh that Rachel echoed. It had been so long since she'd had a truly igood/i orgasm that she'd forgotten how relaxed they made her. She could just fall asleep here in Jack's arms and sleep forever . . . except, she realised with a sudden frown, that she was laying right in the middle of a large wet spot. She groaned and shifted, lifting her hips a little, and Jack raised himself up on one arm to watch her move.

"Do you need a towel?"

Rachel couldn't begrudge him his smug tone of voice. "Hafta pee," she muttered instead. Jack laughed and helped her sit, then took her hand and led her to the bathroom. She wobbled, leaned on him, and that brought him more amusement. "My legs don't work," she complained.

He leaned her against the sink and kissed her, holding her tightly against him. "Damn right they don't," he told her. She laughed as his breath tickled her ear. "Call if you need help." He wet a wash cloth and handed it to her, slipping his fingers between her legs briefly with a satisfied smirk.

Once she'd relieved herself and wiped most of the wetness from her thighs, Rachel washed her hands thoroughly and peered at herself in the mirror. For the oral sex alone, she'd keep Jack, she decided, nodding to her sleepy and hugely satisfied reflection. It nodded back in agreement and she went back into the bedroom, leaning against the wall as she watched Jack change the sheets. He worked quickly and efficiently, then turned and noticed her watching.

"All better?" he asked with a smile as he crossed the room to loop his arm around her waist, helping her back to the bed. He laid her down on his side, then crawled over her to lay next to her, kissing her neck and shoulder as they both got comfortable.

"Mm," was Rachel's tired response. They'd ended up facing each other, Jack's head pillowed against her breast and her arms around his shoulders, his own around her waist. "Thank you, Jack," she whispered.

"It was my pleasure," he replied. "Tell me again."

Her voice was rapidly fading into nothingness. "I love you."

His teeth dented her skin just as she slipped into dreams, and he chuckled.

*****

**A/N:** I'm not sure this stays withing guidelines . . . I remember when an nc-17 rating was all you needed . . . I feel old. Anyway, thank you again for all your reviews, and if I need to, I'll edit this chapter and give a link to the unedited version.


	12. Chapter 12

Jack was up at five-thirty every morning, with or without an alarm. Rachel knew this, so when the shifting of the bed as he got up, not to mention the sudden coldness at her side, woke her, she paid it no mind and slipped into a light doze. Her internal clock, however, was telling her something wasn't quite right so she opened her eyes and looked at his bedside clock. It read quarter 'til five, and Rachel yawned as she sat up. Jack come back in with a towel over one bare shoulder, and he looked surprised that she wasn't sleeping.

"I'm sorry; did I wake you up?" He came over and sat next to her, taking her by the back of the neck to kiss her. "My parole officer's coming by at five-thirty."

"Oh." That explained it. Rachel leaned into his kisses briefly. "Uhm, well, you did wake me, but that's all right." She wasn't sure if she should be there when the officer came by, and Jack noticed her hesitation.

"I'd forgotten he was coming over today until I woke up early. Got distracted, somehow." He smiled as he pulled the covers down to cup her breast, kissing her shoulder. "You don't have to stay if you don't want to," he whispered against her skin.

"If you don't take a shower," Rachel whispered back as her whole body burst into tingles, "he's going to walk in on a very compromising situation." She grabbed his hand as it crept up her thigh, and gave him a stern look.

Jack smiled as he kissed her nose. "All right. I'll got take my lonely shower, all by myself."

"Have fun," Rachel said as she started pulling the covers up again.

Jack took the hand covering his and cupped it over his groin. "I will," he promised her as she gasped in surprise, then got up and went into the bathroom.

Rachel stared after him, but could she honestly be surprised that he'd all but told her he was going to masturbate in the shower? She shook her head and lay back down before turning her head to regard Harleen's side of the bed. It hadn't escaped her notice, even if she'd just now thought of it, that Jack had quite purposefully placed himself between her and that side. Rachel let out a soft breath and wondered if she was going to have to fight Harleen's memory every step of the way.

No, now, that wasn't fair. Eight months. It had been eight months; how long had it taken _her _to let Harvey go enough to welcome a man into her bed? And how many men had she effectively discarded because they didn't live up to his memory? And unless Jack had a different view of things, she was hardly "fighting" the woman's memory. She'd slipped into Jack's life with more ease than Rachel would have thought was possible, and he himself had said he wanted her there. He was always going to have to share her with Harvey's memory, so she would have to get used to sharing him with Harleen's.

The shower shut off a few minutes later and Jack came back in with the towel around his waist. Rachel watched him move to his dresser, admiring the way his muscles moved under his skin and counting the scars on his back. She winced just a little at the marks she'd made last night, but the man was humming, and let out a not-unpleased hiss as he pulled a tank top on and the movement pulled at the scratches.

"If you don't want to see my penis," he remarked over his shoulder, "I suggest you take your own shower."

Rachel laughed, somewhat torn. "Uh . . . is that a trick question?"

Still facing his dresser, Jack laughed as he let his towel drop and Rachel got up quickly. She could see the grin on his face as he waited, and she had the urge to slap his rear as she passed him, but that was a sure way to get herself pounced. With that in mind, she kept her hands to herself and slipped into the bathroom just as he was turning around.

The water was blessedly hot and Rachel let herself linger just a bit, but she didn't want the parole officer to question who had obviously stayed the night. She needed to call her mother, she mused as she rinsed the shampoo out of her hair and worked in the conditioner. If she could convince her mother to like Jack, Bruce would have less to bitch about. Besides, it had been a while since they'd talked.

She shut the water off and reached out for a towel, wrapping it around herself as she stepped out of the shower. Rachel peeked into the bedroom, but while the door was open slightly, the only occupant other than herself was Rory, curled up on Harleen's side and cleverly disguised as a harmless sleeping cat. She'd just pulled her hair back into a bun when there was a knock at the front door.

"Good morning, Officer Torres."

"Morning, Jack." Rachel sat on the bed. "How are things?"

She could hear his dismissive shrug. "Oh, they're good. I had a little episode the other night, but Dr. Morgenson helped to calm me down. How's your wife?"

"Still pregnant." There was a slight pause. "The place looks good."

"Considering it took a year for Harleen to beat some neatness into me, it ought to. Want some cocoa?"

"No, thank you. I didn't know you drank cocoa."

"It's a recent habit."

"Inspired by a certain lady?"

Jack's voice was the essence of serenity. "I have no clue what you're talking about."

"Sure. How's the cat? Still alive?"

"Unfortunately, yes. He's fine."

"All right. Everything looks good to me. Getting ready for work?"

"Yeah. That was all cleared, right?"

"Oh, yeah. The D.A. herself pushed it through. Judge didn't like that it wasn't an official job, but without a social, you can't really get one of those. Besides, I know Charles by reputation. She'll kill you if you screw up."

"So I've been threatened."

"All right, I'll get out of your hair. Have a good day, Jack."

"You, too, Officer Torres."

Rachel blessed the former Marine's connections as the front door shut, then she peeked out of the bedroom. "Is it safe?"

Jack turned to her with a roll of his eyes. "I could have been having sex if he hadn't showed up," he grouched. He raised his eyebrows right back at her as she looked at him. "_Could _have. It wasn't a definite --- just a possibility that he ruined."

Rachel laughed and took him in her arms. "Is your back all right?"

"You need sharper nails." He kissed her cheek, then her lips. "Are you all right? I mean, with everything?"

Rachel nodded and pulled him down for another kiss. "I'm wonderful, Jack. You're . . . very talented."

Jack grinned as his chest puffed up. "I work hard to be good at what I like doing." Then he pulled away with a cough. "But please notice how responsible I'm being in offering you breakfast, so that I can get to work on time. Are you noticing you're not flat on your back again?"

She laughed and followed him to the dining room, where a veggie omelette was waiting for her. "I'm noticing. That's very kind of you. Any insomnia last night?" He usually rearranged his living room when he couldn't sleep.

"Always," Jack replied, "but you were too warm to leave."

"So, what, you just watched me sleep?" She smiled when he had the grace to look embarrassed. "As long as you're not drawing on me, that's all right."

"Just don't look on your back, then." He'd made himself a meat-filled omelette, and smiled at her as he took a bite. "There's orange juice; fresh-squeezed."

She poured herself a glass and took a gulp. "Oh, that's good."

"Thanks. Ah . . . you're welcome to stay tonight, too. If you want to."

"I'm not sure," Rachel said. "It's not that I don't want to; I just don't know if I'll have all my cases in order today. I can't bring work over here, you know."

Jack shrugged as he concentrated on his food. "Just a thought."

Rachel sighed softly. "Jack, I _want_ to stay over. Trust me, I'll try to get everything ready for Monday."

He glanced up, then a smiled crossed his face. "In other words, be thankful you stayed last night and stop being a whiny bitch?"

That made her laugh and she took his hand. "Something like that."

***

"Jack! Starting the morning routine again?"

"Well, aren't _you_ the Jamba stud," Rachel murmured.

Jack flushed slightly and just shrugged as he smiled. "Yeah, well, everyone loves a scarred sociopath."

Rachel rolled her eyes as the girl at the register smiled. "Hey, guess what? We got the pumpkin smoothie back!"

"The _what_?" Jack asked. Just a few months ago he would have still been hiding behind Rachel, and she was ridiculously proud of him.

"The pumpkin smoothie! It's got soy milk, frozen yoghurt, and pumpkin pie mix in it. It's a_maz_ing. We had it years and years ago, and just now brought it back. Want to try it? I'll make you a sample."

Jack blinked. "Sure. You like pumpkin pie, Rachel?"

"I love it," she replied. Jack bumped her hand with his and raised his eyebrows slightly as the girl made the smoothie, and after a moment's consideration she took it, squeezing gently. "Amongst other things," she said in a lower voice.

"Me?" Jack asked hopefully.

"Of course you," Rachel replied.

"Oh, good." The girl, Courtney, was pouring the orange-brown smoothie into little cups, then stuck small straws in them and called Rachel and Jack over. Rachel took a hesitant sip and blinked in surprise at the pumpkin flavour. Jack let out an excited whoop. "This!" he exclaimed. "This is my new smoothie! Courtney, I love you so much right now, you don't even know. This is amazing. Do you like it?" he asked Rachel eagerly as Courtney laughed and thanked him.

"I do," Rachel replied. "I think we're both getting one."

"Get your own," Jack said. "_I_ want the big one. Give her a big one, too."

"Jack, I can't drink that much!"

"I can split it into two cups, and you can save one for later," Courtney offered.

"Yes, do that," Jack said before Rachel could reply. "Give her energy; she needs it. Me, too." It was a good thing Courtney was concentrating on ringing them up, because that meant she missed Jack's leer.

"You're a jerk," Rachel told him as she paid.

"I'm good at what I do." His eyes flicked to the other samples, seriously considering taking another one, but Rachel raised her eyebrows at him and he made a face. He sat them down at a table in the lobby while Courtney made their smoothies, still obviously holding her hand. "Do you mind?" he asked when she glanced down.

"Oh, no, I don't mind at all. Hideki wants us to come out with him and his . . . friend, sometime."

Jack blinked a bit. "That police officer?" Rachel was surprised and it obviously showed because he laughed and squeezed her hand. "Rachel, I've known Hideki's gay since I met him."

". . . Oh. Well. Yes, the police officer. Raoul." She hadn't considered Jack's views on the various types of human sexuality.

"All right. I suppose if I'm with two D.A.'s and a police officer, they'll let me into the local gay club." He reached up and tweaked her nose. "What? Did you expect me to be a raging homophobe?"

"Ah . . . maybe?" Rachel shrugged. "It hadn't occurred to me before, really."

"My sexuality?" Rachel was glad they were speaking in low voices and that Jack had chosen the far table. "My view has always been that so long as _I'm_ getting off, I'm not going to be picky about the plumbing." He shrugged. "I'm very . . . me-sexual."

"_You_-sexual?" Rachel asked.

Jack nodded. "Yeah. It all centres on me enjoying myself. Hugely egotistical and narcissistic of me, I know, I know." He waved off whatever she'd been about to say. "But there you have it. Does that bother you?"

Rachel sat back and watched him. He was looking back calmly, but there was a slight tenseness in the way he held her hand and about his face that said he cared more about her answer than he was letting on.

Finally she shrugged. "I . . . no, I guess it doesn't. It makes a lot of sense, actually."

She watched him dissolve into relief. "Really?" Courtney came up with their smoothies and he thanked her absently.

Rachel got up and they walked out of the store, back toward the apartment. "Well . . . I mean, in regards to before. You always did whatever you wanted."

Jack stopped walking and Rachel paused, looking back at him. "You think this is just because of what I used to be?"

"I don't _care_," she assured him. "As long as you're not going to drop me the moment you think a better offer has come along, I don't care."

"I'm not _that_ bad," Jack said as he started walking again. "Well, not any more. Ooh, I hope we don't run into anyone I knew."

"I really don't need to get into a fist-fight over you," Rachel agreed as she nodded. He looked down at her and she laughed, bumping into him gently.

"Well, I don't want to talk about it," Jack mumbled. "Are you coming back up?" he asked as they climbed the steps to the apartment building.

Rachel chewed on her inner lip for a moment. "Are you going to get to work on time if I do?"

"That's a very good question. Is Charles going to hurt me if I'm late because I was giving you another fantastic orgasm?"

"She might; she's very particular about people being on time. Chances are you'll get a very _loud_ lecture that everyone in the area will hear, and then she'll call me and _I'll_ get a similar one."

Jack shrugged as they stopped in front of the elevator. "Is it worth another orgasm like last night?" he asked as he leaned down to press his lips to her neck.

Rachel shoved him away as she blushed and rolled her eyes, her body tightening in delicious ways. "_One_ great orgasm doesn't guarantee another," she told him.

Jack chuckled and kissed her lips, his eyes dark. "Oh, but I wasn't taking my _time_ last night," he purred, laughing again when Rachel swayed in his grasp. "I'm usually _much_ more . . . thorough."

"So," Rachel whispered as her voice shook, "why the hurry last night?"

He'd walked her into the elevator and pressed her hand once more to his groin as the doors closed. "It's been a long time, Rachel," was the murmured reply. Sure that they were going to be caught, Rachel gave in to a small exhibitionist fantasy and pressed her palm into the growing bulge between Jack's legs, looking up at his widening eyes as she felt him. A thrill went through her as Jack's eyes fluttered shut and he licked his lips, lowering his head to the crook of her neck and pressing his hips into her hand. It felt so good to be touching him, but they both drew back when the elevator slowed. "If you're not going to come back to the apartment and have sex with me," Jack told her hoarsely, "then don't get out of this elevator." He swallowed sharply and coughed as the doors opened, stepping out into the hallway and looking back at her.

Rachel's body had tensed to take a step forward before she stopped herself. "I'm sorry, Jack," she whispered.

"Are your panties wet?"

She blinked. ". . . Yes."

Jack smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling up and his scars distorting his face even more. "Good. Have a great day at work."

"You, too." Rachel leaned back against the wall of the elevator as the doors slid shut, then reached over and punched the ground floor button. Yes, a night away from Jack would be wonderful. She wiped at her face and hurried to her car. Dinner with her mother would give her a great opportunity to not only spend time with the woman, but to bring up her relationship with Jack. Test the waters, so to speak. Good. That's what she would do.

***

"Mom! How are you?"

"Rachel, dear! I've been good. Why haven't I heard from you, young lady?"

Rachel smiled and blinked back tears as Hideki poked his head into her office. She waved him to a chair, and he was frowning as he sat. He had a tabloid magazine in his hands, it looked like.

"I love you, too, Mom. Life's been really hectic; I'm so sorry I haven't called. But look, are you busy tonight? I thought we could have dinner . . ."

Her mother laughed. "And I love you. As a matter of fact, I'm _not_ busy tonight. What time are you off work?"

"Five or six. Can I drop by at seven? Do you want to eat in or out?" That brought a flush to her cheeks, but Rachel ignored it; it wasn't her mother's fault that her mind was in the gutter.

"Seven's great, sweety. I'll make us a little something; you just bring yourself. Unless you're seeing someone . . . ?"

Rachel winced a little. "Well, I wanted to talk with you about that . . ."

"You _are_, then!"

Her mother sounded so _happy_. "Ah, yes, but Mom, we'll talk about it when I get there, all right? It's . . . a little complicated."

"_Oh_. Well, seven, then. I love you, Rachel. Have a good day."

"I love you too, Mom. Bye." Rachel hung up and looked at Hideki. "Jack says he'll go out with us. What's wrong?"

"You obviously haven't read the tabloids today."

"I generally don't. Why?"

Hideki cleared his throat and started reading. "'You've Got to be Joking --- is D.A. Rachel Dawes Dating The Joker?' But wait, Rachel, there's more. 'Last night, Gotham District Attorney Rachel Dawes shared a romantic dinner with Jack Napier, the man who, under the pseudonym 'The Joker,' ten years ago unleashed a wave of terror on Gotham City that ended in billions of dollars of property damage and at least thirty deaths --- including then-District Attorney Harvey Dent, the 'White Knight of Gotham' and Dawes' lover. Eight months ago, Napier's wife (who was his psychiatrist while he was interred at Arkham Asylum) fell to her death from their 23rd-story balcony --- Napier was held in police custody for a few days, but never charged with anything, and Harleen Quinzel's death was ruled an accident.

"'They were very cozy,' an inside source tells us. 'They were holding hands and looking into each others' eyes all night --- they couldn't take their eyes off of each other.'

"'Dawes has been seen in Napier's company continuously over the past eight months, and earlier yesterday, Napier was seen being driven around Gotham by the butler of multi-billionaire Bruce Wayne, who is a close childhood friend of Dawes. Wayne couldn't be contacted for inquiries.

"'Napier had been living a very low-key life with Dr. Quinzel for the last four years before her untimely death, and is supposedly rehabilitated, but he's never offered any apologies or expressed remorse for his past actions. Dawes has, in fact, been seen leaving Napier's apartment early in the morning on at least two occasions.

"'Has Rachel Dawes lost her mind? The information on Napier that's open for public viewing says that he's still a dangerous man --- not to mention the fact that he killed her lover, and attempted to kill her --- ten years ago. One has to question the mental stability of our District Attorney if she is indeed, as evidence suggests, dating The Joker.'"

He tossed the article on her desk, and there they were at dinner, Jack kissing her palm as she blushed and smiled like a schoolgirl at him. There was a picture of them leaving his building, and even one of them sharing a smoothie at Jamba Juice. Rachel's mouth went dry and she swallowed, then licked her lips.

"Well, crap," she muttered as she picked the magazine up and scanned the article for herself. "I figured someone would see us at dinner, I just didn't realise they'd get it out so soon. Some typos . . . must have rushed the article to get it in today's trash." She threw it down, disgust. "And there's not a damn thing I can do about it. I need to call Charles."

Hideki rested his hip on her desk and raised his eyebrow. "Charles?"

"My friend? Small, former Marine, female? Hired Jack? She'll be able to break this to him and keep him from hurting anyone."

"Oh, that one. Well, I've been thinking." Hideki rubbed his leg absently. "You can either try to hide until this blows over, or you can make it very, very public that you two are seeing each other. If you ignore this and try to keep a low profile, people will assume the worst. If, however, you treat it like it's a normal romance and show people that you and Jack do normal couple things together, you're still going to get harassed, but I think the novelty of it all will wear off sooner."

Rachel rubbed her eyes. "I think you're right, but what about when I run for D.A. again? This isn't going to help, and I shouldn't have to hold a press conference to justify my private life."

"We'll get there when we get there," Hideki told her confidently. "Now, a couple reporters have tried to get in to talk with you, and a few have called, but we've pretty much shut them down here, so you can at least work without being hassled. I also spoke with Jack's judge before coming up. Hey, I've got your back," he said with a grin when she looked at him. "Maude says that she's willing to be open to interviews, assuring people that Jack's not a raving madman and that you're not getting your brain twisted or anything like that. I'll try to get a hold of his parole officer, too. I need his name, though ---"

"Torres. Officer Torres."

Hideki just grinned. "Thanks; you're an angel. If Torres will also agree to tell everyone that it's none of their business, but Jack's doing very well, that'll also help. Do you think Wayne will vouch for him?"

"Oh, absolutely not," Rachel said firmly. "He hates Jack. But Alfred likes him, so he might be willing to help, too."

"Okay. I'll talk with Raoul about a possible source in the police department who can vouch for his innocence in Harleen's death; someone who was on the scene, or questioned him . . . hey, that'd be me!" He smiled brightly and kicked his feet with pleasure, which made Rachel laugh. "So all _you_ have to do is keep lover-boy calm, and we should be good. And keep him away from your --- holy shit, you've got a hickey on your neck!" He lunged forward, spilling papers as Rachel leaned back, but he'd caught her turtle-neck with his finger and pulled it down. "Holy crap, you've got a _lot_ of hickeys on you! _Rachel_! You got laid and didn't tell me first thing?!"

"I did _not_," Rachel hissed as she pulled her shirt up, "and any marks on my body are _none_ of your business!" Hideki was laughing, and she broke down. "All right, all right, I swear we didn't have sex. But . . . hm-hm . . ." That stupid, self-satisfied grin was back and Rachel licked her lips.

Hideki was about to wet himself with excitement. "He went down on you? Was it good?"

"You have _no_ idea," Rachel murmured as she leaned forward. "Oh my _God_, Hideki, that man is _talented, and_ he _loves_ it. I thought I was going to pass out." Her voice dropped even lower. "I need new panties just remembering. _Plus_, he told me this morning he hadn't even been taking his time."

"Hey, _I'd_ let him go down on _me._ Did you do him?"

She shook her head. "No, he came early, and kept his pants on anyway. Said it was better to make a mess in them than on me." She was blushing, she knew, but Hideki was really the only person she could gossip with about this. "He also said that he was keeping his pants on because he didn't have protection."

"But you did," Hideki reminded her.

"I know, but that doesn't obligate me to have sex. It worked out just fine, too." Rachel smiled dreamily. "Oh, but when we _do_ . . . it's going to be fan_tas_tic, Hideki."

"I bet," he told her, still grinning.

Then Rachel looked up. "Did you know, Jack's known you're . . . happy . . . since you first met?"

Hideki's eyebrows went up. "I . . . no, I didn't. I try not to advertise at work, you know. Maybe I'm more obvious than I thought?" He gave her a worried frown.

"If it helps, _I_ didn't know until you burst in here and blabbed it to me."

"I needed to tell _someone_. I _hate_ not having a confidante at work. It makes me feel isolated."

"It's all right," Rachel said as she pat him on the arm. "Now get off my desk, clean up the papers you dropped, and get back to work."

"Yes, ma'am." Rachel turned to the phone as Hideki cleaned up, dialling Charles' number.

***

Seven-thirty found Rachel standing at her mother's door while Jack waited in the car. Bethany Dawes lived just outside of the city limits, so Rachel had had to spend an hour tracking down Judge Bowen to get her to sign a release form to let Jack come out this far, which was why they were late. It was 'they' because, after talking with Charles about the situation, as well as a livid Jack, they'd decided it would be best to out themselves to her mother before the newspapers or GCN did it for them.

Bethany opened the door with a frown. "You're late, Rachel. What's wrong?" She pulled Rachel into her arms when her daughter's eyes filled with tears. "Oh, sweety, sweety, don't cry! What happened? Who's in your car?"

"I . . . I just . . . God, Mom, I love you so much, you know that, right?" Rachel held onto her mother and sniffed as she cried. "I'm sorry, Mom, it's just been a stressful day. Uhm . . . look, can we sit down?"

"Of course." Bethany sat on the porch and Rachel sat beside her, like they used to do when she'd been growing up. The elder Dawes glanced toward the car again, then turned to her daughter. "What's going on, sweety?"

"Well . . . I wanted to ease you into this, Mom, I really did. I know you're going to be mad at me, but please listen, all right?"

"Honey, I've always listened to you. Now tell me what's wrong."

"Well . . ." Rachel fidgeted and looked down at her clasped hands. "I'm in love, Mama. I am _so _in love that it's ridiculous. I mean, I haven't felt this way since Harvey; he's so wonderful, Mama, and he's kind, and gentle, and he's just amazing to me. You have no idea how happy I am, you don't." She leaned into her mother's shoulder, and Bethany put her arm around Rachel, squeezing. "And I miss Harvey. I'll always love him, and I'll always wish he were still with us."

"Is that him in the car?" Bethany asked softly. She was talking about the man Rachel had just declared her love for, not Harvey, but it took a moment for Rachel to realise that and she nodded. "So why isn't he up here with us?"

"Well . . . I wanted to give you time to get used to the idea before you met him, Mama, but the tabloids found out and I didn't want you to hear about it from them." She took a deep breath, tears still streaming down her face. "I want you to like him so much, Mama . . . but . . . it's Jack Napier, Mama. Oh, please don't be angry!" Rachel burst out when her mother drew back in shock. "He's changed so _much,_ Mama, you wouldn't believe it! We've had a few fights, but he loves me so much, Mama. And, and Alfred approves of him, and his psychiatrist approves of us, and, and, and . . ." Rachel dissolved into tears again, hugging herself tightly.

It was a few moments before she felt her mother's warm voice in her ear, was pulled into a comforting embrace. "Shh, shh, shh . . . don't cry, Rachel. Sweety, don't cry." Bethany ran her hands over Rachel's hair and rocked her only child. "Rachel, listen. Alfred called me yesterday, sweety. He didn't tell me who it was, but he said that you were in love and I wasn't going to like your beau, but he approved and I needed to keep an open mind." She tilted Rachel's chin up and wiped her tears away. "Now, I _don't_ like the thought of you being anywhere _near_ the man who tried to kill you, but Alfred was very insistent that I not get angry with either of you."

"Alfred told you?"

"Yes, Rachel, he told me. Now, dry your eyes off and go get Mr. Napier. You're both probably starving."

They both stood up and Rachel turned to the car, starting down the steps and holding her hand out. Jack got out and walked toward her, a nervous hitch to his step, and she leaned against his chest gratefully. He put his arms around her shoulders slowly, as if he was expecting to get yelled at for it, then squeezed her tight.

"Is everything all right?" he asked quietly.

Rachel shrugged. "Alfred told Mom that I was dating someone and she wasn't going to like it, but that he approved, so she should, too. I love Alfred."

Jack chuckled. "He's a good man. I'm glad he's on our side." Rachel smiled as she lifted her face up and he wiped at her tears gently. "Am I going to get killed if I kiss you?"

She laughed, still nervous, but feeling like a huge weight had been lifted from her. "As long as it's chaste, no."

His mouth was hovering over hers. "Good," he rumbled, and Rachel held him tightly as their lips met. It started out chaste indeed, and while there might have been a little tongue toward the end, neither Rachel nor Jack were about to admit that to her mother.

When Rachel pulled away she held Jack's hand tightly, and his steps were more confidant as he walked by her side to where her mother stood on the porch.

"Mom, this is Jack. Jack, this is my mother, Bethany."

Jack swallowed and smiled slightly as he held his hand out. "Mrs. Dawes. It's a pleasure to meet you."

Bethany shook his hand with a small smile of her own, nodding as she wet her lips. "Mr. Napier. I wish I'd had advanced notice of all this, but please come inside."

He glanced at Rachel as her mother turned and went in. She nodded encouragingly. "Ah . . . please, call me Jack," he said hesitantly. "I don't like formal titles." He was staying away from 'hate' and other strong words. Good. Rachel squeezed his hand and leaned into his shoulder as they followed Bethany into the dining room.

". . . All right. Please, have a seat. There's enough for all three of us; Rachel, dear, grab another place setting."

"Yes, Mama."

"Is there anything I can do to help?" Jack offered as Rachel disappeared into the kitchen. His voice was still a little hoarse from yelling almost all the way there. He hadn't been yelling _at_ Rachel, he'd just been angry at the article and venting. A quick phone call to Dr. Morgenson had helped to calm him down, as well as whatever Charles had threatened to do to him if he completely lost it.

"No, we just need a setting for you." There was the sound of the two sitting as Rachel pulled out a glass, a plate, and silverware for Jack. "So . . . how did you meet Rachel?"

'No, Mom, don't bring up Harleen, please . . .'

"She sort of rescued me the night Harleen --- my wife --- died. I guess Commissioner Gordon called her, and she came down to question me. The detective they'd sent in first . . . didn't like me at all." Rachel came out and started setting his place up, leaning over to brush his bangs back from his forehead again and kiss him temple. He smiled up at her. "She didn't hate me, so it got me curious, and then she kept coming over to make sure I was doing all right." He shrugged, a little uncomfortable with talking about his personal life.

Bethany was nodding as Rachel chimed in. "His psychiatrist suggested I stick around, and Dr. Morgenson has been a huge help to both of us." She sat next to Jack and took his hand, then her mother's.

"Do you pray, Jack?" Bethany asked.

"Jack's an atheist, Mom." Rachel said when Jack got a deer in the headlights look. She nudged him until he got the hint and delicately took her mother's hand.

"Oh. Do you mind if we pray?"

Jack shrugged, clearly out of his element and floundering. "Ah, no, I don't care."

He sort of hunched his head down as Rachel and her mother lowered theirs. "Dear Lord," Bethany started, "we thank You for Your everlasting love, Your guidance in our lives, and Your mercy. We thank You for this meal, and for our families and friends, and ask that You show Your compassion to all Your children. In Jesus' name, amen."

"Amen," Rachel murmured, then squeezed Jack's hand. "Relax," she told him, "you're not going to get struck by lightning for not praying."

"That'd certainly be a way to get me to believe," Jack quipped, then shot her mother a worried look as Rachel laughed.

Bethany smiled. "I think Rachel just indulges me at this point, anyway. Does she pray before meals?"

Jack regarded the older woman warily as Rachel covered her eyes. "Does 'Dear God, why do I have such a psychopathic, antisocial boyfriend?' count? Because if it does, she prays all the time."

Bethany burst out laughing as Rachel blushed, and it encouraged Jack. He sat straighter, taking the plate of bread rolls Bethany offered with murmured thanks before putting two on Rachel's plate, then taking one for himself.

"Rachel doesn't eat enough," he told Bethany when her daughter groaned. "She keeps complaining about this weight she's supposedly gained, but I haven't been able to find an ounce of it." Bethany arched her eyebrows and Jack flushed. "Ah, I mean, not that I've had the chance to explore, or . . . uhm . . . uhm."

"_Mom_," Rachel laughed, "you're _embarrassing_ him! Stop it!"

"Well, you're thirty-five," Bethany said after a moment. "I suppose it's silly to think you're still a virgin." Now it was Rachel who was blushing, hoping fervently that her mother wasn't going to bring up grandchildren.

"I'd be glad to make sure she's not," Jack offered.

As Rachel choked on her food, her mother slapped the table in mirth. "As much as I appreciate that you haven't had sex yet, I'll have to decline your offer. You'll have to do your own research, while I pretend she's still innocent and naïve."

Rachel's toes were curling even before Jack turned a smouldering look on her. "I have _permission_," he told her with a tilt of his head in Bethany's direction.

"Thanks, Mom," Rachel mumbled through her laughter.

"Jack seems like a gentleman," Bethany said. "And I'd much prefer that he try to get you into bed than kill you."

Jack stopped laughing and looked down at his plate. "I'm sorry about that," he muttered.

They were all quiet for a while before Bethany spoke up again. "So, what do you plan to do about the tabloids?"

"Lots and lots of good PR," Rachel replied. "Jack's judge, lawyer, and parole officer are all willing to go on record with praise for him, and Alfred and Charles are going to do the same if they're approached. We haven't asked Dr. Morgenson yet, but we think he'll agree with this approach."

"What about Bruce?"

Rachel swallowed. "He's still in Vegas, Mom. And . . . well, Alfred's going to work on him."

"I'll give him a call once he's back. The least he can do is support his best friend when she needs it the most."

"So you're not going to kill me?" Jack asked, sounding a little surprised.

Bethany laughed as she took a sip of wine. "Heavens, no. I may not have much of an opinion of your past, but I also haven't see my little girl this relaxed and happy in years. If you hurt her, I will. But until then, you're safe."

"I can just see you and Alfred in war paint, scaling my apartment in the middle of the night to knife me. Great. I'm going to have nightmares." He put his head in his hands and Rachel rubbed his back, dragging her nails down it. He hummed slightly and arched into the contact before looking up with a smile. "I promise, I'll behave."

"Good," Bethany said. "And I hope you like baklava; I've made a fresh batch."

"I don't remember ever having any, but Rachel's told me enough about yours that I can't wait to try."

Rachel relaxed into her seat as Jack scored major points with her mother, glad that his natural charisma had finally bested his insecurities.

***********

**A/N:** Apparently I was misunderstood in the last chapter; that _was_ the unedited chapter. I was saying that _if_ I needed to censor any chapters, I'd post a link to the unedited versions, but until then, I'm not cutting anything. Sorry about the confusion.

And once more, you're all my little love-monkeys, my darling reviewers, and I love you. Also, please don't get in trouble by reading porn during class; I'd hate to be hunted down by irate teachers, and it makes me suspect you might not be 18 or older, which makes me want to cry at the thought of what the authorities would do to me (not to mention your parents) if they came after me. Don't even hint that you're underage, and I won't ask. Promise. Don't get me lynched. Please.


	13. Chapter 13

"You know," Hideki murmured as he rolled his window down, "I hadn't considered that the press might follow us out tonight."

Raoul was in the passenger seat, and Rachel and Jack were sitting in the back seat. "We don't have to go with you two," Rachel said.

"No, I want us to go out; you two need to have some fun. I mean, if a dance club is your idea of fun." He raised his eyebrows at them in the rear-view mirror.

"I talked with the officers on duty there," Raoul offered. "They said they'd crack down on any paparazzi, but they couldn't guarantee no one's going to snap a picture and sell it."

"Is this going to be a problem for you two?" Rachel asked. Neither of them were out at work.

Hideki shrugged. "Did you know that Faces was voted the best place to meet straight singles in Gotham?" he asked. "I'm serious, it was. Straight women go there because they know most of the men are gay and aren't going to try to get in their pants. So naturally, because all men are horny pigs, _straight_ men go there and pretend to be gay in hopes of getting laid. Do you know how often I've heard the 'I've never felt this way about a woman before' line?" He rolled his eyes. "Pigs, all of them."

"Just the straight ones?" Rachel asked.

"Oh, no, men in general." He grinned back at her. "I'd heard women talk about how obvious men are when they're hitting on you, but it wasn't until I was in my first gay bar that I realised how true that is. I mean, _wow_. We're not subtle creatures."

"I won't deny it," Jack said as he deliberately lifted Rachel's skirt. She laughed and smacked his hands away. He still hadn't seen her full outfit, but from the way he kept staring at her cleavage, his brain was going to ooze out his ears once she got out of the car.

"Will you be all right in there, with all those people?" Raoul asked.

Jack shrugged. "I don't think I'll notice anyone but Rachel, really. I mean, you and Hideki look good, but . . . my God, Rachel's breasts are _particularly_ magnificent tonight."

"You're an atheist," Hideki and Rachel said at the same time, then laughed. Jack rolled his eyes, resting his hand on Rachel's knee.

"I'm serious, Jack."

"So am I." He shrugged again. "If it starts to be too much, I'll let you know."

"So, what if someone wants to dance with Rachel?" Hideki put in.

Jack was quiet for a while. "I don't want you dancing with anyone but me," he told Rachel in a low voice. "But I won't make a fuss so long as they keep their hands to themselves."

"Don't worry," Rachel told him with a roll of her eyes, "you're the only one allowed to dry-hump me."

"Damn it!" Hideki snapped. "I was hoping for a turn, too!"

Jack considered the lawyer, then smirked. "Eh, sure, the fag can dry-hump you, too."

"I'm only a fag because I'm smoking hot," the younger man laughed.

"I don't want Hideki dry-humping me!" Rachel protested.

"Right, she just wants _you_ to," Raoul put in.

"You're right, all men _are_ pigs!" she exclaimed, then hit Jack's shoulder when he went for her skirt again, rubbing his thumbs up her pantihose and humming. He always _hummed_ when he was getting aroused. "Stop it, Jack!"

He laughed and kissed her neck. "Relax; one thing I'm _not_, is an exhibitionist."

"Oh? And what was the elevator the other day?"

"Yeah," Hideki chimed in, "what _was_ the elevator the other day? Inquiring minds want to know."

Raoul burst into snickers as Rachel spluttered and Jack laughed. "She touched my penis," he said. "I couldn't stop her."

"_I_ only touched you because _you_ put my hand on your crotch!" she wailed.

"Yeah, but I didn't make you _rub_."

"Oooh, he's got you there, Rach."

"You're not helping, Hideki."

"I'm not trying to. Good God, if I'm _lucky_ you two will _finally_ have sex tonight, then I won't have to deal with Rachel's repressed tantrums at work."

"You have repressed tantrums at work?" Jack asked with interest.

"No! Shut up!"

"Uh, Rachel, yes you do. For the last four months, you've been getting more and more uptight. Come to think of it," Hideki mused, "the only times you've been relaxed have been the last few days. You know, after you stayed over at Jack's."

"I'm going to kill you," Rachel swore. "You are going to _die_, Hideki."

"I want to know more about these tantrums," Jack said as her friend howled with laughter. "Do you have any fantasies to go along with them?"

Rachel was about to start yelling when Hideki pulled up to the curb. "All right, all right, we're not teasing you any more. Get out."

Rachel pushed her door open and stood up smoothly, running her hands over her hips and swishing her skirt a bit. The dress hugged her like a glove, with a low, cowled neckline and straps that crossed between her breasts and wrapped around her waist. The skirt, which hit her at mid-thigh, flared out slightly at her hips. It was backless, with only the straps looping over her shoulders and then back around her waist, and the heels she wore not only gave her an extra bit of height, but emphasised the curve of her legs. She'd pulled her hair into a medium-high ponytail and then curled it, and tossed said curls over her shoulder as she turned slightly to look back at Jack.

"Well?"

"I'm going to slit my wrists if you don't have sex with me tonight," the dumb-struck man mumbled. He almost fell as he pulled himself out of the car, and Hideki laughed as he tossed the keys to the valet.

"I don't respond well to threats," Rachel replied.

"You're a malicious tease."

"And people are starting to stare. Let's go in." Hideki looped one arm through Raoul's, the other through Rachel's, and winked at Jack. "I am a _pimp_ tonight."

"Yes, but you can't make Rachel scream like I can."

"_Jack_!" Rachel hissed, glancing around. He shrugged with a grin as he finally got himself straightened up, then slid his arm around her waist and pulled her away from Hideki.

Raoul nodded at the officers at the door as they showed their I.D.'s, and made only a slight show of patting all three men down. They glanced into Rachel's small purse, then nodded them in and Hideki leaned against the podium just inside the door as he handed the doorman some money.

"That should cover all of us, Beto. And hey, keep it quiet for us, will you?"

The young man glanced at Rachel and Jack and nodded. "No problem. Have fun."

"Great! Who wants a drink? Jack, you're allowed one beer every hour. Maude told me so."

"Why does everyone assume I'm a violent drunk?" the man wondered aloud. "Alcohol makes me sleepy. Well, horny, too. But mostly sleepy." He had his hand firmly at the small of Rachel's back as Hideki ordered them drinks.

Raoul chuckled. "Same here, but hey, Hideki's paying. We'll stay sober together." He grinned at Jack, who obviously wasn't expecting this show of camaraderie and blinked back at him.

"Uh . . . sure. Sure." His eyes traced the curve of Rachel's spine and his fingers curled, and he licked his lips as she turned back to him with a beer in one hand and something pink in the other. "What's that?" he asked before he took a swig of the beer.

"I don't know. A shot of Malibu coconut rum, pineapple juice, and a bit of grenadine. The bartender said some girl gets it all the time and loves it." She swirled the little straw in the drink and took a sip, a pleased smile coming to her lips. "Oh, it's delicious. Want a taste?"

"Am I allowed?" he asked, but Hideki waved him ahead and he took a small sip with a frown. "I taste pineapple. And . . . a little coconut. It's a bit too sweet." Then he looked at her lips and licked his own again, and Rachel laughed.

"Fine, here." She took a drink from the glass itself, then leaned over and kissed Jack. He sighed and licked the moisture from her lips, pulling her closer. With her heels, she was only two inches shorter than him when he stood at his full height. "Is that better?" she asked after she'd pulled away.

Jack smiled. "_Much_ better." He turned his face suddenly, frowning. "Camera. I hate cameras."

Rachel hugged his arm. "We knew it would happen. Just play nice, all right?"

"I _always_ play nice," Jack claimed as Rachel turned and followed Hideki deeper into the club. This first room was two storeys, and led into more dance rooms and also out to a patio area, which looked to have a pool in it.

Rachel turned and brought her lips close to his ear. "And trying to blow up Gotham was nice?"

"Well . . . _yes_," Jack said, as if she ought to know. "It needed a shake-up." He looked like he was about to say more, but kept his mouth shut before hooking his fingers into the lower straps of her dress as she turned away again and shook her head. "Oh, hey, I like this song."

He paused, pulling Rachel back with him as he lingered in the second room. There was a railing that separated the dance floor from the walkway, and the two of them leaned against it while they sipped at their drinks. Hideki and Raoul were already on the dance floor, the low lighting gleaming in their dark hair. Rachel knew that Jack was relaxed simply because he was now curious about the club, looking this way and that, just watching the people. She put her hand between his shoulder blades and rubbed gently.

"Let me know if you need some air."

He twitched slightly as her breath tickled his ear. "Sure, yeah." Then he gulped down the last of his beer and glanced at Rachel. "Come on, let's dance."

"Do you even know how?" Rachel asked as they set their empty drinks on the bar.

"Don't recall a time when I didn't. Trust me."

"If you bust out into the Robot, Jack, I'm leaving." That made him laugh as he pulled her against him, and to Rachel's surprise her lover _could _move to the beat, and quite well, at that. She wondered when the novelty of dancing would wear off for him, but Jack's interest held throughout the next few songs until Hideki came up and dragged them off to another room. This one was full of hip-hop and rap, but there was yet another room across from it that had pool tables in it. "Jack, pool!" Rachel told him excitedly. "Let's play in a bit."

He was watching her hips undulate to the beat and just nodded absently. Then he glanced over her shoulder and his eyes widened before he turned them both around.

"What's wrong?" Rachel asked.

"Uh, yeah, I know that guy."

"Which one?" Rachel glanced in the mirrors along the wall, but it was apparently no one she herself knew.

Jack was scowling. "The nasty little queen drinking a Corona at the bar."

"How do you know him?"

It was hard to tell, but Jack looked like he was turning red. "Uh, I slept with him a couple times." Rachel stopped dancing and just stared at him. "Oh, trust me, you have no _idea _how sorry I am about that," Jack told her as he took her hand and led her farther away from the bar. "I'd just got to Gotham, I was making connections, he's got good mob ties . . . it was a good idea at the time." Then he shuddered. "Please don't yell at me. Pool?"

"I'm not going to yell at you," Rachel told him. 'Not picky about the plumbing' had gotten his point across to be sure, but left it all rather vague in her mind. Now, however, she had a disturbingly good mental image of Jack in bed with another man --- and she didn't like it at all. Not that it was another man, but that it was Jack with _anyone_ but her, especially a mobster. It didn't matter that it had been at least ten years ago; Rachel, who hadn't thought she had a jealous bone in her body, was suddenly on the verge of seeing red. "Just let me know if you see any _more_ ex-boyfriends of yours."

"Why, so you can kill them? Calm down," he told her, taking her arms and rubbing his hands up and down them firmly. "Does it help that I never liked him?"

She paused as she looked for quarters in her purse, then smiled up at him. "Yeah." He kissed her nose and she laughed. "Got 'em. Let's play pool."

"And that's why," Jack was saying a couple of games later, "it's very important to know the difference between potassium nit_rite_, and potassium nit_rate_. One goes boom, the other fizzles." Rachel was laughing as he leaned over to take his shot, chewing on his scars as he frowned at the balls. "Now, I very _patiently_ explained the difference to the girl, and Charles was very understanding, but still. You don't have to be me to know which chemicals explode; it's simple chemistry." He scowled when he missed the shot and straightened.

"Corner pocket," Rachel said, pointing. She leaned over and took aim, wiggling her shoulders for Jack's benefit. He made a choked noise and she grinned. She'd beaten him every game, and she wasn't even that good at pool. "And . . . I am _awesome_!"

He shook his head and tossed the his pool cue onto the table. "I give up. I need another beer."

Rachel laughed and handed him a five before kissing his cheek. "I'm sorry, sweety. I'm going to be outside for a bit, all right?"

He hugged her tightly. "Sure. I'll be in here, drowning my sorrows."

"With one beer. Good luck." She meeped when he smacked her rear, and shot him a flirtatious look over her shoulder as she pushed the patio doors open to the blessedly cool night air.

Jack took a seat at the bar and had finished about a quarter of it when someone took the seat to his left, bumping his chair as they did so. He grunted softly, but ignored them until they spoke up.

"Well, if it isn't _Jack_. Long time no see! How are you, _darling_?"

He rolled his eyes at the nasally falsetto and didn't turn around. "Just fine, Maury."

The smaller man leaned in, tapping his manicured fingers on the bar. "I see you're playing with pussy these days."

"Don't see how it's any of your business. Just wanna finish my beer." He took another gulp, mentally rearranging the alcohol bottles on display. Largest to smallest and smallest to largest, starting with the whites, moving to the reds, and ending with the violets and blacks.

"We've missed you, honey," Maury cooed. "We figured it wouldn't be long until you got back with us, after you got that shrink to let you out of Arkham. But it looks like you've gone completely legit."

"Hey, I saw your cousin in there, Sammi? Yeah, he hanged himself. Which is what _you_ should do, Maury. I don't want trouble, I just want to finish my drink in peace. Got it?"

Maury's laugh was as scratchy and irritating as ever. "Oh, whatcha gonna do about it? You're all reformed now, I hear, dicking the D.A. and everything. Gonna sic her on me?"

Jack straightened and tilted his head toward Maury, rolling his eyes up to look at the man. It was a gesture he hadn't used in ten years. "You still slumming it in the Narrows, Maury?" he asked quietly. "Because I remember where you used to live. Hey, with just a _little_ effort, I could find you _and_ the rest of your disease-infested cronies, and it would tickle me _pink_ to make your lives living hells. I wouldn't even need to call the police." He swallowed the last of his beer and set it down with a _thunk_. "Do _not_ fuck with me, Maury. _Or_ Rachel, because if you do, I _promise_ you that you'll regret it." He turned in his chair and glared at the now-pale Maury. "And I always keep my word."

"Everything all right, Jack?" Raoul asked as he leaned against the bar on the other side of Maury. The small man whipped around, whatever he'd been about to say dying on his lips as Raoul casually adjusted his suit jacket, which flashed not only his holstered gun, but also his badge.

"Ah . . . just saying hi to my _ex_," Maury hissed, then shoved away from the bar.

Raoul watched him go, then turned back to Jack and raised an eyebrow. "Bitch knows how to hold a grudge."

"Mm." Jack turned back around and fiddled with his now-empty beer. "Thanks."

"No problem. Thanks for keeping quiet about Hideki."

Jack shrugged. "What was I supposed to do? 'Oh, look, a flaming fag just walked in to keep me from being convicted of murdering my wife! Help, a gay man!' Wasn't in my best interest to out him. And I really don't care either way, so I don't need to be thanked."

"We appreciate it, though."

Jack rolled his eyes. "Sure." After a moment he turned to the younger man. "How old are you?"

"Twenty-one." Raoul smiled a little bashfully. "I'm just a baby."

"At least you know," was the return.

"You don't know how old you are?"

He shook his head. "Early to mid thirties, I think. Harleen --- my wife --- and I tried to figure it out once, and I can remember back about twenty five or thirty years. So somewhere in there."

"Wow. I'm sorry." Jack shrugged, and Raoul hesitated a moment. "Was he serious? About being your ex, I mean."

The once-criminal rapped his knuckles on the bar before glancing at the policeman. "He's Maury Moskowitz. Also goes by Maureen. He works for the mob and I can give you his old address in the Narrows; I don't know if he still lives there or not." Then he shifted in his seat. "And I wouldn't call him my 'ex,' really. Slept with him a few times to get mob connections when I got to Gotham."

"Oh. Well, now you have police connections if he starts harassing you."

The older man snorted. "Right. Half your officers used to be on my payroll. Still, thank you," he added when Raoul stiffened. "Might come in handy." Then his gaze drifted outside and he stood up, pushing his way through the crowd. "Shit . . ."

***

"Ms. Dawes?"

Rachel turned at her name and smiled at the small woman who had spoken. "Yes?"

The woman smiled back, brushing her black hair behind her shoulders and holding her hand out. "I'm Anita Bentley; I'm a freelance journalist. Look, I know you're here to enjoy yourself, but if I could just get a couple minutes of your time, a quote even, it would really help me out." Her grip was firm, but she wasn't trying to crush Rachel's hand.

Rachel considered the sparkling blue eyes in front of her and shrugged. She couldn't rely on others to give all the interviews, and Jack was still inside, talking with Raoul. "Sure."

"Is there a quieter place we can go?" Anita asked as she took a pen and pad of paper out. "I mean, here is fine, but it's not very private."

Suddenly Jack was right beside her, his hand gripping her arm tightly. "Rachel, come here." He gestured inside with his eyes, staring hard at Rachel. "It's important."

Anita's lip curled slightly as Rachel turned back to her. "I'm sorry, Ms. Bentley. Not tonight." Jack was already dragging her inside, and then she pulled away from him. "_What_ is wrong, Jack?"

He grabbed her arm again, pulling her out to the techno music of the very first dance floor as Raoul followed them closely. "Do _not_ go near that woman," he growled in her ear. He tightened his grip on her arm when she started to protest. "I mean it, Rachel. Run the hell away if you ever see her again. She's a killer."

"_What_? _That _little thing?"

His brown eyes were serious as they moved to the beat. "I don't know if she's a bounty hunter or works for the mob or what, but I know a killer when I see one, Rachel, and I promise you she was trying to get you alone."

"What name did she give you?" Raoul asked over her shoulder. His hands were on her hips, overlapping Jack's, and if Rachel hadn't been so bewildered it might have turned her on a bit.

"Ah, Anita Bentley."

"Probably a fake, but I'll run it tomorrow."

Jack frowned down at her. "You're not going anywhere alone for the rest of the night. Got it?"

The dance floor was getting more and more crowded, pushing the three of them together and Rachel nodded. "Trust me, it's no problem." It _could_ have just been over protectiveness on Jack's part, coupled with slight agitation from seeing that man he'd known, but Rachel wasn't willing to bet on it. She turned in Jack's arms, pressing back against him and swaying into a slight crouch before sliding back up his body, and his hands tightened on her waist.

"Tease," he growled in her ear as Hideki pushed his way up to them.

"You three are _so _hot," he gasped out, eyes crossing a little. "I'm a little drunk. Rachel! Drink this!"

He'd brought her another drink and with Jack a steady force behind her, she managed not to spill, even when Hideki put his hand up to make her drink it all in one go. Then she gulped for air.

"Jerk."

"I love you, Rachel!" Hideki exclaimed, sliding between her and Raoul and holding the man close to him.

The crowd pushed them apart, but Rachel didn't mind letting Hideki and Raoul have their space. She did, however, find herself facing one of those men who were obviously looking to pick up on the straight women at the club, and he grinned down at her as he moved closer. She pressed back against Jack as he reached for her waist, and Jack swung her out of the way with a solid glare. Realising whose girl he'd tried to move in on, the man went pale and stumbled backward, pushing his way off of the dance floor. Jack lowered his head to Rachel's neck, holding her tightly as they moved. She didn't mind; his knee between her legs was providing excellent friction.

Jack started to get a headache a while later, and since none of the men with her were willing to let her walk him home, all four left Faces early. Jack lay down in the back seat with his head in Rachel's lap as she massaged his temples.

"Jack's my very best . . . best . . . he's my very best," she said suddenly.

Hideki, who had forced more drinks on her, found that hilarious from the front seat, and Raoul just nodded. Jack himself just groaned.

"No, really, he is," Rachel insisted. She was feeling very chatty all of a sudden, and curled some of Jack's hair around her fingers as they tingled. "He's my, he's my favourite."

"Favourite _what_?" was the muttered question.

"Everything!" Rachel giggled and her eyes crossed, and the tilting sensation that gave her made her laugh again.

"Hideki," Jack growled, "I hope you know I promised not to have sex with Rachel if she was drunk. I want you to know that I hate you with a burning passion at the moment."

"What?!" Rachel exclaimed. "No nookie tonight?! Oh, Jack, see? You're the best! Not taking advantage of me in my _tipsy_ --- not drunken, _tipsy _--- state!" She leaned down and gave him a wet kiss on the cheek, smearing her lipstick with a grin.

"I hate you, Hideki," he groaned.

"I'm _hungry_!" Hideki responded.

"Me, too!" was Rachel's enthusiastic reply. "Let's get some food!"

"_No_," Raoul and Jack both said firmly. "Jack's got a two o'clock curfew tonight," Raoul went on soothingly as the two intoxicated ones started whining.

"And work in the morning. Why we went out on a Sunday, I'll ---"

"Sunday waaaas, a day of reeeest," Rachel crooned. "Now it's one more daaay, for, pro-greees . . ."

"I miss Mayyyyberry," Hideki chimed in, "sittin' on the porch drinkin ice-cold cherry, Coke, watching the day go by . . ."

The two of them couldn't remember any more lyrics after that, so with a few more half-hearted la-la's, they lapsed into giggles. Raoul rolled his eyes as he pulled up to Jack's place.

"Is she going with you?"

"_Yes_!" Rachel cried as she cuddled Jack's head to her bosom again. He placed a kiss between her breasts and sat up as she clung to him.

"Guess so."

"Can you get her upstairs all right?"

"I'll manage." He pulled her out of the car and then leaned down to smile at Raoul. "Thanks for tonight. It was fun."

The dark-complexioned man just smiled. "No problem. Hideki will pick her up in the morning. Have a good night."

"You, too." Jack considered Rachel as the car pulled away, then turned and hoisted her onto his back. She draped her arms over his shoulders and yawned.

"I'm sleepy, Jack."

"Well, go to sleep."

"Okay!" She was snoring softly by the time the elevator got to his floor.

***

Rachel didn't know what woke her, but she was suddenly wide awake, staring at Harleen's side of the bed. Jack usually obstructed her view of it, which meant he wasn't in the bed with her. She sat up after a moment and yawned before she heard him pacing around in the living room. He'd gotten her into an pair of his sweatpants and one of his tank-tops, and she smiled as she slid out of bed and padded to the door. It had been a good night, despite her last-minute drunkenness.

"Why are you up at four in the morning?" she asked as she peeked into the living room.

Jack jumped and whirled around, then flapped his hands as he scowled. "Can't sleep. I can not _fucking_ sleep." She went up and hugged him, but he pulled away. "Are you still drunk?"

Rachel laughed. "I've got a bit of a headache, but I don't think I'm drunk."

"I don't believe it." He snorted, disgusted, and went back to pacing. "I can't sleep. I slept for a bit, but then I couldn't."

"Hey, hey," Rachel called soothingly, placing herself in his path and hugging him again. "Let's go for a walk, then. I know you're not supposed to, but I'm the D.A., Jack. I can get away with it." She smiled and sat, pulling her sneakers from under the couch. "Now come on."

Jack stared at her for a moment before slipping his own pair on, and fidgeted until they were outside. He headed for the park, not paying attention to Rachel but for his hand grasping the sweatshirt he'd given her to wear. He was walking so fast the she almost had to jog to keep up with him, the cold air wonderful in her burning lungs by the time they'd reached the park. Rachel followed Jack in silence, content to just be there with him while he snarled silently and kicked at the ground, in a foul mood.

"What was that?"

He's stopped suddenly and she'd almost run into him. "What's what?"

"Listen." Someone was crying, and Jack turned in that direction, heading toward the children's playground. Rachel followed, suddenly concerned, and when Jack stopped again he let his breath out in a long sigh. "Oh, Benny . . . Benny, Benny, Benny . . ."

She peeked around him and there was a man pinning a young woman against the fake rock wall that kids climbed on, a knife in one hand and her purse in the other. She was shaking her head, crying and pleading, but Rachel couldn't hear whatever it was he was demanding of her. She really didn't want to, in fact, and had stepped back when Jack put his hand on her arm.

"Rachel, stay here." His voice was low and cracked slightly, and he chuckled. Rachel knew that laugh. She knew it and she didn't like it and she grabbed his arm, desperate to get him away.

"Jack, stop. Don't, Jack . . ."

He pushed her hands away as he hunched over slightly, his hair falling in his face. He didn't look at her. "Stay here, Rachel, and get that girl to safety when she's free." She heard him lick his lips, and Rachel was terrified that between his irritation with his insomnia, his headache, and the trouble at the club, he was going to snap completely. She couldn't leave, though, and she couldn't get him to stop. Rachel was stuck.

"Hey there, Benny," Jack said cheerfully, his voice unnaturally high.

The man gave a startled shout and whipped around, his knife at the girl's throat as she cried. "Who the _fuck_ are _you_?!" he demanded.

Rachel didn't have to see that demented grin on Jack's face; the way Benny stiffened said it all. "Don't _tell_ me you don't rec-og-nise me, Benny," Jack crooned. "I mean, you never saw me without my make-up but, heh, I'd think the _scars_ would have given it a-way."

"Shit, man, they said you was normal now!" The man was almost as terrified as the girl, as Rachel. "Don't come no closer, man! I'll slice her!"

"'Normal' is such a . . . _relative_ word, Benny," Jack continued, not stopping his slow advance. "And go ahead, kill her. I'll kill you if you do, though. I mean, it's been six years since I've killed someone, but I'm _cer-tain_ I remember _how_." He giggled, then stopped suddenly. "Let her go and you _might_ not die tonight, Benny. If you hurt her any more, I _promise_ you that I'll kill you."

"Fuck, what can you do? You ain't armed!"

"I'm not?" Jack looked around at himself, perplexed. "No, I'm not." His hand flung out and he grabbed Benny's wrist, and Rachel could hear it snap from where she stood. Benny screamed and dropped to the ground, clutching his hand to his chest as he cursed. "Hey, what do you know?" Jack asked brightly. "Now I _am_ armed!" He shrieked with glee, grabbed the girl and flung her toward Rachel, then followed Benny as the thug tried to crawl away. The grinning man reached down and pulled him up by his hair. "Be-nny, Be-nny, Be-n-ny," he sang as he slammed the man into the rock wall. "You're - an - ass, - and - now - you'll - payyy . . . Be-nny, Be-nny, Be-n-ny . . ."

Rachel pulled the whimpering girl close. "Jack! Stop it!" But this wasn't Jack. This was the Joker, and Rachel didn't know if he was going to snap out of it or not. She started edging the girl away, afraid to take her eyes off of the giggling man.

"Huh?" He looked up and around, not really seeing Rachel when his eyes passed over her. Benny was still trying to get away and Jack glanced at him before stomping on his good hand. The man howled and the Joker knelt down, jerking his head up, exposing his throat and whispering in his ear. Whatever he said, Benny nodded in frantic agreement to, then the Joker smashed his face into the wood chips and stood up, shuffling toward Rachel. He was absently wiping the knife off on his shirt, staring hard at the two women.

The girl whined and begged to be let go, struggling in Rachel's arms as he came to a stop in front of them, and Rachel took another step back. The Joker reached out and grabbed the girl's chin, pulling her out of Rachel's grasp and tracing the knife across her cheek lovingly.

"Now, look, Poppet," he murmured, "this didn't happen, all right? Hey, hey, look at me, Poppet." He forced her to meet his cold eyes and she nodded desperately. "This didn't happen. He slipped, you got the knife away, whatever, but _I_ wasn't here, all right?" He leaned forward to murmur in her ear, "_All right_? Tell me you understand, Poppet." He took a deep breath of her hair and closed his eyes, obviously enjoying her simmering fear.

"A, all right," she whimpered, then the Joker let her go and she took off running.

He blinked after her for a moment, then turned and started shuffling away, singing what sounded like "New York, New York" under his breath. He was almost to the edge of the playground when Rachel started running toward him.

"Jack! Stop!"

He paused and tilted his head, then sniffed the air before he started to turn around. "I know that voice . . ." He narrowed his eyes at her and Rachel faltered, but forced herself not to stop until she had her hands on his shoulders. "That's not a good idea," he growled.

"Fuck it," Rachel snapped, shaking him. "Stop it! Just _stop it_! You don't need to do this, Jack, you don't need to be like this any more!" Tears were running down her face.

"I'll be however I feel like being," she was told as he pushed her away. "Leave me alone." He cupped her cheek gently and Rachel held onto his hand, then he shook her off again. "Leave me _alone_!" he bellowed.

"_No_!" Rachel yelled right back. She drew back her hand and smacked him as hard as she could. "You're not like this any more, Jack!"

"Stop calling me that!" He was trying to turn away but Rachel got in front of him, then he grabbed her and pulled her close, pressing his lips to her ear. "If you don't walk away right _now_, I can't guarantee your safety. Don't make me hurt you, Rachel."

There was a familiar pleading note in his voice that gave Rachel hope, and she wrapped her arms around him and squeezed tightly. "You're Jack Napier," she told him stubbornly. "You're Jack Napier, damn it! You have a cat named Rory, who's as much of an asshole as you are! You think your neighbour hears voices! You know how to dance but don't remember learning, you've met my mother and she likes you, and you're the man I love!" Rachel was shaking him, trying desperately to snap him out of this nightmare, but all he was doing was snarling and pushing her away.

Her back hit a tree and he forced her to look up at him. "I tried to kill you," he whispered in her ear. "I made your _squeeze_ go crazy and take the law into his own hands. I blew up a fucking hospital, _and_ the police department. _Stay. Away. From. Me._ I don't want to hurt you, Rachel."

Rachel could see him slipping away from her even as he tried to save her, and she burst into fresh tears, shaking her head in denial of the change coming over her lover. "Jack, please, let's just go home. Please, Jack."

He whirled back to her. "Do you want to know how Harley _really_ died?"

Before Rachel could do a thing, the Joker was pulled off of her and thrown onto the ground.

"Stay away from her!" Batman roared at him, advancing as the Joker sat up and rubbed his head.

"_Stop_!" Rachel screamed, grabbing Bruce's arm. "You'll make him worse!" She was shaken off like she was nothing as the Joker started screaming with laughter.

"_Batsy_! I _missed_ you! Let's play!"

"You're going back to Arkham," Bruce snarled, "and you're _never_ going to get out."

"_Good_," the prone man hissed. He was crab-walking backwards, trying to get enough room to stand. "What, you think Rachel's just gonna _fall _into your arms after this? Swoon over you?"

"She'll never be safe with _you_ around, Joker. I knew you hadn't changed." Bruce reached for him and Rachel threw herself between the two, knocking the Joker back to the ground. "Rachel!"

"Stop it stop it stop it!" she wailed, beating on Jack's chest. "Give him _back,_ you _asshole_!" She didn't know who was more surprised as her fist connected with his chin, the Joker or Batman. "Give me back the man I love!"

"Harvey's _dead_," he snapped.

"I'm not talking about Harvey and you know it!" Rachel screamed at him, grabbing his face in her hands and kissing him desperately. He flailed a bit, but didn't push her off. "Give me Jack! I want Jack, fucker! Give him back _now_!" She hit him again, as hard as he could, and his head snapped to the side. When he looked back at her, finally, _finally_ Rachel could see the struggle on his face. "If you don't give me Jack," she growled, "I'm going to throw you in Arkham myself. You'll never see me, never _hear_ about me, and I swear I'll marry Batman and we'll live happily ever fucking after!" She was babbling, but Rachel couldn't let Jack go, couldn't let the Joker come back and take him over.

"Kill me."

It was sudden, and said in a normal voice, and Rachel paused. "What?"

Jack's eyes looked back at her, warm and brown and full of sorrow. "Kill me. Please, Rachel, I don't want to do this any more . . ." He sat up and leaned his head against her shoulder. "Just kill me and be done with it."

"_Fuck_ you," Rachel snarled. He drew back in surprise. "Fuck you and your narcissistic, pompous, self-centred ego! Why do you want to leave me alone, Jack? How could you do that? I didn't work this hard just to have you give up!" She smacked him again, then whipped around to Batman. "And _you_! You _knew_ that interfering would make him worse and you did it anyway!"

"Rachel, I ---"

"He was trying to help you," Jack interrupted.

"What?"

"What?"

His lips twitched. "I know, I'm taking his side. He was trying to help, Rachel. I might have hurt you."

"You were trying not to, Jack."

"But I wanted to." He pushed Rachel gently off of his lap and then stood slowly, wincing, and helped Rachel up. "I can't keep breaking down after a tense evening, Rachel." He sighed and looked at her wearily. "If I tell you to go with Batsy, you're not going to, are you?"

She raised her chin. "No, I'm not."

"I didn't think so."

"Rachel, he's not safe. Come with me, I'll ---"

"Shut up." Bruce shut up and Rachel focused on Jack. "My birthday party's next month. You haven't wished me a happy birthday yet. You haven't given me my birthday present." She walked closer with every sentence, reaching her arms out to him and holding him close. "You haven't asked Mom's permission to marry me. You haven't proposed to me. We haven't had children." There were tears in her eyes as she gaze up at Jack, running her fingers along his scars even as he flinched. "There is _so much_ that you haven't done yet, Jack. _So much_. You can't die, and I can't lose another person I love." She leaned her head on his shoulder and looked at Bruce, still watching them silently. "Please," Rachel whispered. "Please."

Bruce's fists clenched as Jack's arms slowly wrapped around her waist. He watched Jack break down into tears, watched Rachel comfort him, and then he turned and walked away.

*******

**A/N:** Bethany is awesome because she's modeled after my own mom, who is awesome like no other and is my absolute best friend, ever. I love you, my little review monkeys, and I hope you enjoyed this chapter. ^_^ I've just realised that I don't really have anything to comment on . . . I'm useless, lol.


	14. Chapter 14

Bruce was sitting in her office when Rachel got in. His eyes were puffy and red and he looked like he hadn't gotten any sleep, but she supposed she herself didn't look much better. She'd stayed up all night, making sure Jack wouldn't try to kill himself like he kept threatening, and she'd dropped him off at Dr. Morgenson's as soon as he'd arrived at his office. Rachel had spent another hour on the phone with Alfred after that, and all she wanted to do was curl up in Jack's arms and make this bad dream go _away_.

But Bruce was still there, watching her with heavily guarded eyes, and she closed her door with a sigh.

"All right, let's have this out."

He looked down at his hands as she crossed her arms over her chest. "I didn't come to fight, Rachel."

"Then why are you here?"

"I wanted to make sure you're all right. How many times does he have to almost kill you before you realise he's never going to change?"

"Jack," and she stressed his name slightly, "wasn't trying to kill me last night. He was trying to get me to leave him alone."

"The Joker tried."

"As far as I'm concerned, Bruce, the Joker's been dead for almost ten years."

Bruce sighed and rubbed his eyes. "And what about last night?"

Rachel finally sat down at her desk and leaned forward. "Last night someone he knew ten years ago was harassing him, there was a bounty hunter or something like that trying to get me alone, he had a migraine, he couldn't sleep, he's still upset that the tabloids found out about us, _and_ he knew that mugger, too. So yes, I think it's understandable that he broke down." She leaned back and rubbed her forefingers against her thumbs. "He scared me," she said softly. "He scared me a _lot_. That wasn't Jack last night, you're right. It was the Joker, but Jack was there, Bruce. Do you think the Joker would have tried to save that girl? Or me?"

Bruce looked at her calmly, then shook his head. "I think he's got you wrapped around his finger, Rachel."

"Bruce, you don't know him. He makes me happy, Bruce, happier than I've been in a long time. Yes, he's antisocial, egotistical, still a psychopathic sociopath, and unstable even _with_ his medicine, but . . . he's also gentle, and kind, and incredibly intelligent. I can talk with him about anything, he's hilarious when he wants to be, and he's trying, Bruce. He's trying _so_ hard to leave his past behind him, but it keeps biting him in the ass." She slumped a little. "I wish he could leave Gotham City, move some place where no one knows him so he could really start over."

"Alfred's vouched for him," Bruce said. Rachel nodded. "He says it's time I let the past go, but . . . God, Rachel, last night . . ."

"He'll probably be heavily medicated for quite a while, if that helps," Rachel offered.

Her old friend looked at her. "How can you love him, Rachel? Honestly, how did that happen?"

"Slowly," she replied. "His psychiatrist asked me to visit him on occasion to keep him company; he said that it would be good for Jack, having constant proof that he's not hated by everyone, and that I'd forgiven him." Rachel shrugged. "And . . . little by little . . . it just snuck up on me."

"Were you serious about wanting to marry him?"

Rachel pursed her lips. "If he asked me . . . I wouldn't say no. I wouldn't say yes," she said as Bruce closed his eyes in pain, "but . . . I wouldn't turn him down outright."

"Alfred's insisting that we go on like last night didn't happen. Your mother called me, too." He opened his eyes to roll them at her. "She's still concerned, but she likes him."

"His name is Jack, Bruce," Rachel said sharply. "Please call him by his name."

He pursed his lips. "She said 'The least you can do is support your best friend when she needs it the most.' Do you know how much I wanted to hate Bethany at that moment?" He looked down at his hands again. "So . . . What do you want me to do?"

Rachel blinked. "About what?"

"About . . . Jack. Anything I can do, I'll do it."

Rachel bit back the tears that sprang to her eyes and got up, coming around the desk to pull Bruce into a fierce hug. "You're amazing, Bruce. Thank you so much." She wiped her eyes and smiled at him, then kissed his forehead. "I know how hard this must be for you," she whispered.

"Just tell me what you want me to do."

"Show your support for Jack," Rachel said. "Get to know him. He's _so_ nervous about meeting you, Bruce. He wants to make a good first impression. And do _not_ do _anything_ that might hint that you're Batman." She glowered at him. "I was _so mad_ at you last night. I know you were just trying to help, but damn it, it only made Jack worse."

"I'm . . . sorry, Rachel."

He looked so forlorn that Rachel hugged him again. "I don't expect you to ever approve, or like him, but try to give Jack a chance? Please?"

Her friend held her tightly and nodded. "All right. I'll try."

***

"How smart would it be," Rachel asked, "if Jack were to move in with me?"

Morgenson raised his eyebrows as he thought about it. "I think that having you there all the time would be a constant reminder of what he stands to lose if this behaviour keeps up." He tapped the side of his nose. "He'll be fairly useless for the next few months. I've upped a lot of his medications. Are you willing to be his caretaker for a while?"

"For as long as he needs one," Rachel said fervently. "Is he still going to let me near him?"

"I didn't give him a choice," Morgenson said as he leafed through some pamphlets. "How do you know Batman?"

"What?" Rachel asked as her heart skipped a beat.

"I asked how you know Batman. I'm not asking for his true identity, I just want to know how you know each other. Jack seems to think that he's in love with you. It irritates him."

Rachel sat back and tried to think of how to respond. "He's . . . a casual acquaintance."

"I think he's more than an acquaintance, but I understand that you're not able to tell me more. Here, this is for a support group I'd like you to start going to." He held out a pamphlet. "It's for the family and friends of people with serious mental illnesses. It will help to know people who are in a similar situation as yours."

"Thank you," Rachel said as she took the information.

"Are you still on birth control?"

"Yes, and we haven't had sex yet."

"But you've been intimate." Morgenson waved his hand to keep her quiet. "Sometimes Jack says more when he's not talking than when he is. I trust you're both properly satisfied?"

She was past blushing at this point, and Rachel nodded. "Very satisfied. I know Jack really wants to have sex, but I've been holding off. Still . . . soon."

"A special day?"

She looked down at her hands. "My birthday. It's mushy and cliché, I know, but . . . it just seems like the night."

"Well, that saves me from having to tell you to sleep with him. Your birthday's what, next month? The medication shouldn't be kicking in too much by then --- I'm upping them slowly, so he can adjust. All right. It was bloody stupid of you to try to calm him down last night, rather than get away, I hope you know."

"I couldn't let him leave like that," Rachel said. "He could have gotten hurt, or killed, or slipped fully back into being the Joker."

"I know, which is why I'm glad you stopped him. Heroes are generally normal people who make stupid decisions and make them work."

Rachel smiled. "I'm glad you approve."

***

"Come on, Jack. If you complain one more time, I'm going to gag you." Rachel took Jack's hand and led him to where Bruce stood at the limo door. "You look so handsome tonight," she murmured.

"Rachel, happy birthday," Bruce said with that winning smile of his. He held his hand out to Jack without a trace of resentment. "And you must be Jack. Rachel's told me all about you."

"Really?" Jack asked, suddenly looking wary.

"Oh, I can't get her to shut up about you." Bruce ushered them in to the limo, then slipped in across from them and his chauffeur closed the door. He was ignoring that Jack hadn't shaken his hand. "I'm glad she's so happy."

"I'm not that great," Jack protested. "I make a lot of huge mistakes."

"We all do," Bruce told him, and Rachel wondered what this act was costing him. "The question is, can we forgive ourselves enough to move on and let the past go?" He paused to let that sink in, then went on. "Rachel tells me you've had a few fits, but you haven't gone back to your old ways, and I think you've made fewer mistakes than you think you have." Rachel took Jack's hand and smiled at him. "By the way, Rachel, I love your dress. Where did you get it?"

She could have kissed Bruce. "Jack made it for me," she said. "He's an excellent tailor. And artist; it's actually from a portrait he did of me."

"Really?" Bruce looked pleased. "So, do you do fashion design for Charles, too?"

"You know Charles?" Jack asked, surprised.

Bruce laughed. "Jack, _everyone _knows Charles. She's got her paws in almost every part of Gotham City. You're a consultant for her on pyrotechnics, right?"

"Oh, yeah," Jack said absently. "I get to legally blow things up nowadays." He smiled slightly, and Bruce grinned back.

"I think she'll love that dress." He nodded. "Are those real pearls and diamonds?"

"Do you think I can afford real _anything_?" Jack asked in return. "But, yes, they are. Ah, Alfred got them for me."

"That's what he needed them for," Bruce said with a nod. "Well, I'll have to apologise for getting irritated with him about the purchase."

Bruce had known full well that the decorations on her dress were real, as well as that Jack had made it, and what he did for Charles. Rachel had told him everything, almost. But his feigned ignorance, and ready acceptance of the answers Jack gave, helped to put Jack himself at ease. Rachel didn't think she could find better friends.

"And here we are," Bruce said as the limo pulled to a stop. "We couldn't keep the press away, but they're not allowed on the grounds. Just don't wander off alone, you two." He shook an admonishing finger at them and Rachel laughed while Jack blushed.

"I'll try not to drag him off," she assured her friend.

Both men got out, then turned and held their hands out. They looked at each other, and after a nod and a smile Bruce dropped his hand, letting Jack help Rachel out of the limo. She smiled at them both and squeezed Jack's arm. The suit that Alfred had had tailored for him was cut to complement his figure, showing it off to the best advantage. It was a dark grey and the fabric gleamed in the flickering lights of the torches set out, and she'd styled Jack's hair simply, but neatly. It was pulled into a small ponytail at the base of his neck, but some of his bangs still fell loose. 'Handsome,' Rachel felt, didn't _begin_ to describe him.

"Hey, the birthday girl's here!" Hideki called out as he sauntered up. "Happy birthday, Rachel! You're _gorgeous_ tonight." He hugged her, then turned to Jack and gave him a brief hug, too. "How are you, Jack?"

He brushed his bangs back out of habit, and licked his lips. "I'm good. How are you, Hideki?"

"I'm in love, it's amazing." He smiled happily as he walked with them into the house. Alfred was there to greet them with a warm smile, and shook Jack's hand heartily.

"Happy birthday, Rachel. Jack, good to see you. I am _so_ glad your dress turned out well, Rachel. I do hope you like it; it was difficult keeping it a secret from you."

"I love it, Alfred, thank you. Is Mom here yet?"

"On her third cocktail, my dear." Alfred gave her a quick hug.

"By the way, I owe you an apology," Bruce told him. "I didn't realise those pearls and diamonds were for Rachel."

"None need, Master Bruce. Ah, here's Bethany."

"Rachel! Oh, happy birthday, sweety! And Jack's here, too! Wonderful." Bethany was definitely feeling good about the world as she nursed her drink and hugged Rachel, then a startled Jack.

"What is it with drunken Dawes women and affection?" he asked Alfred.

"We're very loving women," Bethany told him. "We just want to hug everyone sometimes." And she turned to hug Bruce, ruffling his hair. "You just get handsomer by the day, Bruce, really. When are you giving me grandkids?"

"_Me_?" Bruce squeaked, his eyes going wide.

"Yes, you. Rachel and Jack are behaving themselves, so it's up to you, playboy, to give me grandkids." Rachel was laughing, leaning into Jack, and even Alfred looked amused. "Or do I already have them? Some dame in another country, maybe?"

"I don't have kids," Bruce said quickly. "No way, no how."

Bethany rolled her eyes and turned to look Jack up and down. "Well. Jack and Rachel will have beautiful babies for me, then."

Jack sighed. "See? Your own _mother_ gives me permission to make sure you're not a virgin, and now she's demanding kids. You've got to give in _some_ time, Rachel."

Rachel laughed. "I'm under no obligation to breed, even if my mother demands it."

"But you'd have such beautiful babies!" Bethany exclaimed, gesturing at Jack. "I'll have babies with you, Jack."

He pulled Rachel in front of him quickly. "No, thanks. Really, I'm good for now. Kids. Uh. Yeah. You know, I've still got this whole psychopathic deal going on, I really don't think now's a good time. I mean, for the sake of the children alone, you know?"

Bethany shrugged. "I want some grandkids _some_ day, though," she said, wagging her finger at Jack and Rachel.

"Oh, sure, some day, no problem," Jack promised. "Yeah. We'll, uh, we'll work on that."

"Oh, good! I'm so relieved. When's dinner?"

Alfred chuckled and led Bethany away, and Jack looked at Rachel. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to obligate us to have kids."

"If we're lucky, she'll forget all about it," Rachel assured him. She sighed fondly. "My mother, the closet lush."

"_Move_! Double-time! Out of my way!" Bruce was shoved out of the way as Charles barrelled through, then threw her arms around Rachel's waist and hugged her. "Happy birthday, Rachel! You look beautiful; what brand is that?"

"Jack made it for me," Rachel said as she hugged her friend back. "And thank you."

"Jack, you need to meet my main fashion designer. But why are you all in here? The party's out back!" She pushed her short blonde hair behind her ears, then barked at the small group until they'd moved to the back patio, a Marine Corps drill instructor for life. "I guess it was supposed to be a small party, but hell, half of Gotham's showed up."

"They usually do," Rachel said as she took Jack's arm. "It's one of Bruce's parties, after all."

There was a DJ, tables of food and drink, more torches, and a dance floor. Not to mention the high-society guests that had congregated there. Jack tilted his head, smiling the way he did when he was about to be an ass and looking forward to it.

"This looks familiar . . . Didn't I crash one of your parties once, Bruce?"

Bruce paused, looked from Jack to Rachel and back, then nodded as she rolled her eyes. "You still owe me for that window you broke, too."

"If I was forced to pay for everything I broke, I'd be poor for the rest of my life and then some. But hey, if you loan me the money, I'll pay you back asap."

Bruce laughed. "I'll get on that."

Rachel was relieved that Jack was so comfortable already. Their daily outings into society were obviously helping him. Raoul was talking with Commissioner Gordon, and waved at them with a smile. Rachel waved back, then followed Jack when he walked over.

"Mr. Napier. How are you?"

He shook Gordon's hand with a smile. "It's Jack, please, and I'm doing good."

"I'm glad. Rachel, you look stunning. Happy birthday."

"Thank you," she said. "How are you, Raoul?"

He hugged her, then shook Jack's hand. "I'm doing great. Happy birthday. I love your dress."

Rachel squeezed Jack's hand and smiled at him. "Jack made it for me."

"I want one just like it," Hideki said as he came up with a young waitress, a tray of drinks balanced in her hand. "Rachel, Jack, I got you two some sparkling cider." The way he said it, and the grin on his face, made Rachel want to kick him. He was obviously intent on keeping them both sober. Then again, the few times Rachel had been drinking when they'd all gone out, Jack had slept on the couch --- he was hell-bent on keeping his hands to himself when she'd been drinking, and it had been a hassle just to get a kiss goodnight.

"I could make you some heels to go with it," Jack offered as he took his drink and handed Rachel hers.

"Hey, me in that outfit, and you in this nurse's outfit I hear you have, we could be a hit."

"Crazy clowns and demented D.A.'s? It'll run for years."

"He doesn't _have_ a nurse's outfit," Rachel said as they all laughed.

"But I could _get_ one," Jack returned, poking her in the shoulder, "and _you_ could wear it."

"I'm not indulging your uniform fetish!"

"What about mine?" Hideki asked.

Rachel just shook her head. "You're not supposed to tease me on my birthday."

"I'm really glad to see you doing so well, Jack," Gordon said. He was nodding in approval and looked pointedly at the man's arm around Rachel's waist. "You've done good for yourself."

"I have, haven't I?" Jack replied as he smiled down at Rachel. He leaned his forehead against hers as she smiled back, and for a moment it was just the two of them.

"All right, thank you all so much for showing up," Bruce's voice boomed out. He was holding a microphone on the dance floor. "Even if most of you weren't invited." There was scattered laughter. "Anyway, today is Rachel Dawes' birthday. Rachel's been my best friend since we were kids --- but if you tell them any stories, I'll sue you."

"You still owe me a Barbie!" she called back.

"She died in the line of duty, Rachel, how many times do I have to tell you?" There was more laughter, then Bruce went on. "Rachel's always been there for me, even when I'm sure I didn't deserve it. She's strong, kind, beautiful, smart, funny . . . and she's dedicated her life to helping this city and its people. Not only that, but she's found herself a good man, and love him or hate him, I don't think there's anyone who can deny how happy they are together." He raised his wine glass as Jack and Rachel both stared at him in surprise. "So . . . to Rachel."

"To Rachel," the crowd murmured. They lifted their glasses and she blushed as she raised hers in return, then took a drink.

"Did he have to include me?" Jack asked nervously.

She pulled him down for a kiss. "Yes. Now word will spread that Bruce Wayne approves of you. This is good, Jack." He smiled slightly and rubbed at his eyes. "Don't tell me you're tired already."

"It's the meds," he replied. "I'll be fine." Then the DJ put on a salsa beat, and Jack turned to her with a grin and a raised eyebrow. "So . . . you can belly-dance a bit, but do you know how to salsa?"

Rachel finished her drink off and set it on the table behind her with a grin of her own. "Let's find out."

Jack started humming as he led her out onto the dance floor.

***

"So, there's this guy here," Rachel said as she sat in Jack's lap, breathless from all the dancing she'd been doing. She hadn't realised that when Jack had said he could dance, he didn't just mean he had a fantastic sense of rhythm. He knew Latin dances, he knew ballroom dances . . . She wasn't sure there was a dance he _couldn't_ do, and she'd been whirled around the dance floor by him and almost everyone else until she was dizzy. Bruce had claimed her for the latest dance, and now he was moving on to try to get Charles to dance with him after Rachel had pleaded exhaustion.

"Really? Amazing."

"Oh, yes," she went on. "And he is _so_ sexy, you wouldn't believe it."

Now Jack started looking around. "Is that so? I might want to get to know him better."

She laughed and ran her newly-sharpened nails lightly over the back of his neck. His eyes fluttered closed. "I mean, wow, I think I need to take him home and have sex with him. Lots of it. All night."

"Mmm . . . then why aren't you dragging him off?" he mumbled.

Rachel rolled her eyes. "I'm _trying_," she said. "You're just not taking the hint."

Jack went still for one moment, then stood so fast that Rachel cried out in surprise. "I am _so_ ready to leave," he declared. "Let's go. Now." Rachel was laughing as he picked her up by the waist and held her tightly to him. "Are you teasing me again?" he whispered against her mouth.

"No," she replied. Her heart pounded as he lifted her up above him and kissed her stomach; Jack was always so gentle that Rachel forgot how strong he really was.

He set her down and his eyes searched her face, at a loss for words, and held her by one arm at her waist, snug against him. Then he ran the fingers of his free hand through her hair. "Uhm. I don't have ---"

"It's all right," she whispered, her arms around his neck. "I have condoms and I'm on birth control."

His eyebrows twitched in surprise even as he smiled. It was a little shy, a lot nervous, and he pressed his forehead to hers. "I don't know what you like."

Rachel's laugh was low and throaty. "Yes, you do. Just do everything you've _been_ doing, and a little more." She gently dug her nails into the back of his neck and he hissed, pushing back into them.

"You sharpened your nails," he moaned into her ear, using the slow song that was playing as an excuse to sway against her. His thumb rubbing against the exposed small of her back made Rachel sigh with pleasure.

"Because I know you like it," she told him. "And I like that you like it. Having to remember not to scratch sort of ruins the fun for me."

"Wait, this means I can finally sleep naked again." He pulled back and grinned at her.

Rachel laughed, tilting her head back and letting her curls brush against her shoulders. "You're excited by the strangest things," she told him.

"Oh, no, you have no _idea_ how irritating it's been to sleep in jeans." Jack made a face, then rubbed under her chin like she was Rory in a good mood. Then he let her take his hand and lead him toward Bruce. He was probing at his scars with the tip of his tongue, his eyes darting back and forth as the tips of his fingers slipped just inside the side of her dress.

"Bruce, I'm so sorry, I need to get Jack home. He's tired. They've got him on some new meds that just wipe him out."

Her friend frowned a little, but nodded. "I'm sorry about that. I was hoping you could stay a little longer. But it's no problem. Let me get the limo for you."

"Oh, that's ---"

"Just fine," Jack cut her off. "Thank you, Bruce."

"No problem. Give me a minute." He walked off and whispered in Alfred's ear, and while Bruce may have been willing to believe that their sudden departure was only because of exhaustion, the look Alfred shot them said that he knew full well why they were leaving early. Rachel gave him her best innocent look, but it was hard to do with Jack's very obvious arousal pressing into her rump. She did her best not to squirm against him; she could tease him later, out of sight of the public and her mother.

Speaking of . . . Rachel took Jack's hand and pulled him around so they could say goodbye, and she doubted any of her friends bought the line about Jack needing to sleep. Not Hideki, certainly. He hollered "_Yes! Finally_!" and did a victory dance, which probably erased any lingering doubts as to Rachel and Jack's intended evening activities. She'd kill him later.

Alfred led them out to the limo and held to door open, then leaned down once they were both in and gave them a stern look. Rachel dug into her purse and took out one of the condom packs as her friend opened his mouth, and he shut it with a smile.

"I'm on birth control, too."

"Good girl," Alfred said. "Try to get _some_ rest tonight."

"No," Jack said firmly. "She gets no rest. At all. She said all night, I get all night. Can we go? My place is closest."

Rachel turned to him as Alfred straightened with a laugh. "Jack! Don't be rude!"

But Alfred had already shut the door and the window between them and the chauffeur was up, and Jack growled as he pulled her into his lap and pulled the straps of her dress down. Rachel would have squealed but for his lips and tongue being in the way, then he was hiking her skirt around her hips and moving his kisses down her throat. She dug her fingers into his hair and leaned her head back, moaning when he placed his thumb over already wet panties and started rubbing gently. Pressing into the contact, Rachel tilted Jack's chin up to nip at the pulse in his neck, then kiss her way up to his ear as he hooked his fingers in her panties and nylons and lifted her up a bit to pull them down. Rachel wasn't paying too much attention to anything but Jack's pleased gasps in her own ear as she bit down on his earlobe, so it wasn't until he'd gotten her panties all the way off with a satisfied laugh that she looked up and her eyes went wide.

"Jack! Give those back!"

"Nuh-uh," he chuckled, waving them at her and then tucking them into his pants pocket when she grabbed at the silk and lace. He tilted her over, laying her along the seat as he slid two fingers inside of her, his thumb still gently teasing her.

"I am . . . _not_ . . . having sex in this limo," Rachel gasped out even as she arched her hips up, eyes rolling back in her head.

Jack leaned up and kissed right below her ear. "Then you shouldn't have shown me those condoms," he murmured, his breath hot and ticklish.

"_Jack_ . . ." Rachel said warningly, digging her nails into his shoulders as she tried to glare at him.

He shuddered and dipped his head to bite the top of her breast. Rachel whined. "You _know_ that just encourages me," he groaned. He sat up a bit and --- was he? Oh, crap, he was --- started undoing his belt, and while he might have been playing at having sex in the limo before, now he was very, very serious about it.

"Jack!" Rachel squealed. "We do _not_ have the time for this!"

"Are you joking?" he replied. "It's a good twenty, thirty minutes to my place from here. That's _plenty_ of time to get warmed up."

"Warmed up?" Rachel asked, scooting back and trying to pull her skirt down. Jack pushed it back up.

"I was serious about you not getting any rest tonight. Besides, I told the chauffeur to keep driving until I told him to stop."

Rachel stared at him for a moment, then Jack removed his fingers and started licking them clean, the smirk on his face saying he knew he'd won. Or maybe he just really, really liked how she tasted. It was probably both.

She started struggling with her gown. "Get this thing off of me," she told him, and Jack hooted with laughter as he reached for the side zipper.

"I am a _genius_," he crooned to himself as the dress slipped off of her and landed in a bundle on the other seat. It may have been a random thought, or he may have been talking about the built-in bustier the dress had, which meant he had less clothing to take off of her. Rachel hadn't noticed him taking his pants off, but they joined the dress and then she sat up, pulling him close to her by the tie.

That made Jack laugh, and between the two of them and their four shaking hands, they were able to get his shirt undone and off of him. Rachel took a moment to stare at him. How he kept in such good shape she didn't know; he was hardly lazy, but she'd never seen him working out. Rachel ran her hands down the planes on his chest appreciatively. The scars that she'd noted their first night together --- paper-cut sized, really --- appeared to cover his entire torso and she traced a few of them.

"Where ---"

He cut her off with a kiss. "I'll tell you later." He pulled her into his lap so she was straddling him as he kissed her again, and somehow he'd also managed to get into her purse _and_ open the packet of condoms, because she felt him trace the edge of the wrapping along her back as he lowered his head to her chest. Rachel arched her back away from the almost-pain. It pushed her into Jack's mouth and made him chuckle, then he took both her hands and raised them to her breasts. "You do that," he told her, "while I do this." He wiggled the condom at her.

Rachel laughed and squeezed her breasts gently, then licked her thumb and forefinger before pinching a nipple. Jack made a choked noise, wide eyes darting between unwrapping the condom and her. He seemed to be having a little difficulty, and it made Rachel laugh as she showed him how she liked her breasts touched. It was fun by herself, true, but with Jack watching it was just so much _better_. Masturbation was never going to pack the same punch as it had before.

"Do you need help?" she asked with a giggle as his eyes crossed.

"Ah . . . no, no, I've got it." Jack brought his hand to the back of her neck and pulled her down for a burning kiss, lifting her up higher on her knees. Rachel _did_ have to help at that point, but then she slid back down and he was inside of her as they both groaned at the contact.

It was beyond wonderful. They'd both wanted this for so long, had anticipated, dreamed, teased . . . Rachel bit her lip and gasped as Jack pulled her into a rhythm, and with a few adjustments they found one that worked. She curled her hands into fists before remembering that she didn't have to, and gladly sunk her nails into Jack's shoulders again. He responded with a grunt, his head falling back on the headrest as he pulled her down on him harder. Rachel whimpered. She was trying to be quiet, and so was Jack, but it was so _hard_, especially when he was playing with her breasts and it was _just_ how she liked it because Jack was a very quick study, and his arms were so tight around her that she could barely breathe but she didn't want him to let go, ever. She raked her fingers down his chest and he _did_ cry out, biting into her neck and letting go almost immediately to assault her mouth again, one hand almost painfully gripping her hair.

Rachel leaned her face into the crook of his neck and he was humming again, then shifted just a bit and _-oh-_ that felt so damned _good_ and she got that prickly feeling that said she was going to start crying after she'd orgasmed, but Rachel bit her lip and gasped his name, her nails leaving red welts on his arms. Jack responded with a light slap to her rear, then rubbed where he'd hit and it made Rachel jump. It made her stomach tighten and she couldn't suppress a moan, which of course made him do it again, this time as he pinched her nipple, and Rachel pressed her mouth to his shoulder to muffle her cries. Jack was whispering something in her ear; she couldn't make it out, but it was comforting and she was going to lose control very, very soon. In fact . . . Jack pushed her back a bit and Rachel whined in protest at losing the feel of his chest against hers, but he was sliding his fingers between them, and managed to find her clit, rub it, and not lose their rhythm. Rachel saw heaven.

Well, not precisely. Her entire body convulsed as the heat that had been building up inside her loins exploded outward and she almost screamed, her eyes rolling up in their sockets as the best damned orgasm she'd had in years took her nerves for a spectacular joyride.

Jack was still inside of her when she came back down to Earth, holding her against him tightly and stroking her hair as he kissed her cheek. True enough, Rachel had tears in her eyes and she squeezed them away as she panted. She kissed his sweaty skin out of reflex and felt his stomach rumble with laughter, then he tilted her chin up so she could blink at him fuzzily.

"You okay, there?" he whispered, but the teasing lilt in his voice was hard to make out past his own breathlessness.

"Oh, God, I love you," Rachel moaned. "Did you . . . ?"

"Oh, yeah," he assured her. "You were having an amazing orgasm; of course you didn't notice."

"You're a," pant, "narci-," pant, "-ssistic," pant, "asshole." Pant, pant, pant.

"Well, yeah," he panted right back, running his hands flat up and down her back, "but it works to your advantage." They looked at each other and started laughing, then Rachel kissed Jack firmly before leaning over to crack the window a bit.

"If this limo gets back to Bruce smelling like sex, he's going to kill me."

"Ask me if I care," Jack replied, frowning a bit as Rachel eased off of him and rubbed her sore rear. "Oops. Should have asked first."

"Hmm?" She looked over at him as she knelt to pull her dress on, and he was leering at her naked form. He looked down at her rear and she rolled her eyes. "It's all right."

Jack tossed the condom into the small garbage, then knelt behind her and leaned over until he was draped over her back. He was still partially erect and it made her next breath shudder. "Is that . . . permission?" She turned a slightly confused look on him and he smiled, reaching his hand out to cover hers where it rested on the seat, steadying them both as the limo took a corner. "I believe I've told you before that I like rough sex," he murmured in her ear. He was rubbing her breast with his free hand, licking the back of her neck.

"I . . . yeah . . ." Rachel gasped and tried to clear her mind, to think straight. It wasn't working and she whined a bit before Jack pulled back and started sorting their clothes. He rapped sharply on the privacy window before hugging her tightly.

"I'll ask again later." His smile was warm as he helped her get her dress back on.

***

Jack rolled off of her with a slight groan, his chest heaving. Rachel wasn't in much better shape. The bedside clock read four in the morning and she mused that when he'd said she wasn't going to get any sleep, he meant it.

Still . . . she rolled over slightly and curled into him, feeling his breathless laugh as his arm snaked around her waist. She was regretting only letting Hideki buy her those two packs. Jack had put one condom away for the morning, and except for that one they were all out. That trip to Susie's was a good idea.

"Need a shower?" he mumbled into her hair.

"Too tired," she replied, kissing his neck as she snuggled closer. "Are you done yet?"

"Only 'cause I want to have sex with you in the shower," Jack replied in a whisper, then laughed at himself. He kissed her forehead and tugged the covers around her more tightly. "Rachel . . ."

"Move in with me, Jack."

It was said on impulse but Rachel didn't try to take it back as Jack chuckled. He pulled her halfway on top of himself and kissed her forehead again.

"Okay," he murmured, and they both fell asleep with smiles on their faces.

******

**A/N:** Nothing big this time. The usual love for my review monkeys, and I just wanted to say that I really like reading all of your reviews. They let me know I'm doing a good job, but it's also interesting to read them because when I was first posting Speak, I had no clue what was going to happen. Now that I'm on chapter 17 of the sequel, it's awesome to read your theories and ideas about how the story's going to progress, because now I _do_ know what's going to happen.

Anyway, my little review monkeys, that's two updates in one day. Thanks so much for reading, and I'll post again as soon as I can.


	15. Chapter 15

They'd hit a small glitch. Jack had completely forgotten that Harleen had signed an eighteen-month lease, and that it wasn't up for another six months. Jack had been ready to start throwing things, and had almost dented his wall when he'd hit it. Then he'd collapsed onto the floor and Rachel had held him tightly, kissing him and stroking his hair as she whispered assurances in his ear. Six months wasn't bad, she'd reasoned, and it didn't mean they couldn't see each other until then. It gave them time to plan, to move his things in, and it was only after his morning medications had kicked in that Jack calmed down.

So, three months later, Rachel and Jack stood in his bedroom and stared between each other and Harleen's clothes. They'd made room in her apartment the previous week, having gained her mother's consent (which Rachel loved Jack for getting, even if he hadn't needed to), and had managed to keep the impending cohabitation a secret from the press for the time being. Hideki had been sworn to secrecy, and Rachel herself had approached Judge Bowen and Officer Torres with the news. The fewer people who knew about this, the better.

It still didn't solve the problem of what to do with Harleen's clothes.

"Ah . . . give them to charity?" Rachel suggested. Jack made a face. "Jack . . ." She trailed off and pursed her lips, trying not to let her hands clench into fists. Harleen had been dead for just over a year and Rachel felt it was time to get rid of her clothes, not to mention that she didn't have room for them in her apartment. She just didn't know how to tell Jack what she felt without it seeming like an attack.

He sat on the bed and fingered a blouse, not looking at Rachel. He didn't want to give them away. He wanted to keep them, to hold on to them, and Rachel wanted to scream from the frustration of it all. She _understod_, she _did_, but understanding how Jack felt didn't make _her_ feel any better.

"I'm sorry, Rachel," he muttered, turning his gaze to his feet. "I'm just . . . I don't . . ." He trailed off and when he looked up at here there were tear tracks on his cheeks and more on the way. Rachel sighed and went to him, wrapping her arms around his neck and holding him against her shoulder. He quivered and held onto her tightly. "I'm so sorry," he repeated. "Just . . . do whatever you want with them, because I'm not going to be happy in any case."

Rachel knelt down and placed her palm on Jack's cheek, making him look at her. She gave him a small smile and then kissed him gently, rubbing her thumb against his right scar.

"I love you _so_ much," she whispered.

"You're mad that I don't want to get rid of them."

She sighed. "I'm frustrated, Jack, I'm not _mad_. I just . . . right now I feel like I've hit a brick wall with you, and it's keeping me from what I want."

"Which would be what, exactly?"

"You. All of you," she clarified when he shifted his head a bit. "I don't want to share this big part of you with Harleen any more; I know you still love her, Jack, but I don't think it's fair to _me _that you're moving in with me, but still clinging to her." She sighed.

"You want me to forget about her?"

"Not at all," Rachel hurried to assure him. "I know this is a way to remember, but there are other ways, Jack. Not to mention that I don't have _room_ for all these clothes."

"Do whatever you want," Jack muttered as he pushed her back gently and stood up, then stalked out of the room.

Rachel sighed and lowered her forehead to the bed, her heart aching. She and Jack rarely fought, but when they did he had the tendency to sulk for days, nursing his wounded pride until some random thing cheered him up, then the storm was over and he was all over her, desperate to make up for the hours he'd spent facing the other way, sleeping on the couch, and avoiding her touch in general. These times took a toll on Rachel whenever they happened, but she was determined to see them through and not give up. Jack would come around soon enough, and they would find some sort of middle ground. They always did.

She sighed again and turned to the clothing, folding it all neatly and placing it in the boxes scattered around the room.

Jack was sitting on the couch when Rachel finally came out of the bedroom, having packed it and the bathroom all by herself. His eyes were firmly glued to the television and his lips were set in a thin line, and he ignored her as she stacked boxes along the wall by the door. He was watching the video of his and Harleen's wedding day, and Rachel stood by the boxes and watched over his shoulder for a few minutes.

The blonde woman was laughing, clinging to his arm in her white wedding gown, a yamaka with a veil attached to it pinned to her hair. Jack was thinner back then, and the look on his face was unsure and haunted except for when he looked at Harleen, and then it was borderline obsessive. Rachel shuddered a bit. Occasionally he would turn away from the camera, pulling Harleen around with him and his head would dip down; he was willing to kiss her in public, but not in front of the camera. He never left her side, and refused to let anyone else dance with her --- not that there were that many guests. They all looked to be co-workers of Harleen's, though Rachel recognised a few friends that had been at her funeral. Dr. Morgenson was there, too.

"So, tell us about Jack," the camerawoman said with a laugh as she zoomed in on the groom's face. He glared at her, then Harleen's hand was on his cheek below his scars, and the sullen look faded from his face.

"I think Jack's wonderful," Harleen declared, her Brooklyn accent on the heavy side. "He's grouchy as all hell, but I _loooove_ him anyway. Don't I, puddin'?" He made another face, looking away from the camera and pursing his lips. "Oh, c'mon, Mistah J, tell Candee what you think of me, now that I'm famous." She giggled, and even if her memory hadn't been getting the way the past week, it still would have grated on Rachel's nerves.

". . . You're all right," Jack mumbled. His arm stayed around her shoulder, hand on the back of her neck in a gesture that was at once familiar and yet different. It was the way he sometimes held Rachel's neck, but with Harleen it was somehow more possessive, almost like she was his property.

The woman didn't seem to notice or mind as she giggled again. "Awww, my puddin' loves me," she cooed, standing on her toes to plant a kiss on his cheek, again avoiding his scars. A muscle in Jack's jaw twitched, but he let her cling to him. When she went on, mixing in talk of how famous she was now while declaring her undying love for the sullen man she was trying to get to dance with her, Rachel wanted to hate her. What stopped her was the genuine look of love in the woman's eyes, as well as the expression on Jack's face when he bothered looking at the short woman. His face had the look he got when he was trying to glare at Rachel, but his affection for her was poking through and making it difficult. True, Rachel only noticed this greatly reduced version because she was well acquainted with his current version, but it was there nonetheless.

Rachel sighed again as Rory rubbed against her ankles and purred, looking around the apartment. It was big even for two people --- it was two bedrooms, one of which had been Harleen's office, two bathrooms, a living room, dining room, and kitchen. It had been largely empty even with Harleen living there, and the walls were a cold grey colour. The pale colours of the furniture blended with them, giving the place a sterile feel to it that was a far cry from the warm hues of Rachel's apartment. She shivered, glad to be getting Jack out of here even as she glowered at the back of his sulking head.

"Would you shut him up?" Jack demanded suddenly, and Rachel scooped the cat into her arms and gave his head a good rub-down. When Rory wanted attention, he wanted _attention_. He kept purring even as he tried to bite at her hand, but she avoided his teeth easily. Then Jack sighed and clicked the television off, standing up and pacing. "You're not staying tonight, are you." It was hardly a question, just an assumption.

Rachel rolled her eyes and stuck her tongue out at him when his pacing turned him away from her. "I just finished packing the bedroom," she reminded him, "and the movers will be here in an hour to take the furniture away. Including the bed. You're sleeping at my place from now on, remember?"

"_Our_ place," he reminded her shortly.

"You'll be sleeping on the balcony if you keep sulking like this," Rachel snapped. He turned to glare at her and she glared right back. "You do _not_ need to take _everything_ I say about Harleen as an insult or an attack," she went on. "I hate that we keep doing this, Jack. I'm trying to be patient with you, but you're so damned _stubborn_ about always having your own way, and it needs to stop. I'm not telling you to leave her behind; I haven't left Harvey behind, and it's been eleven years. I don't expect you to, or want you to. I _want_ you to understand that _I'm_ here, and Harleen's _not_, and that I'm _not _going to fight her every step of the way." He had retreated to the far corner and hunched his shoulders, still glaring at her and Rachel crossed the room to him as Rory leapt out of her arms. "I _love_ you, Jack," she said firmly as he rolled his eyes. She stopped in front of him and went on quietly, "I need to know that it's me you're seeing, not Harleen."

He blinked at her as he digested her words, then his shoulders sagged as Rachel hoped he finally realised that he couldn't continue to have both women like this. It wasn't one or the other, and she hadn't meant her words to be taken that way, but _she_ needed to be the main focus in Jack's life, not his dead wife.

Jack sighed as she reached out to touch his shoulder, and the fact that he let her do it told Rachel that he was no longer angry with her. He was still so _touchy_ about Harleen and her death ---

_"Do you want to know how Harley_ really _died?"_

Rachel shuddered at that memory; she'd assumed at the time that he had just been trying to scare her off, but sometimes there was a certain glint in his eye, a twitch of his lips or shoulders, the way he reacted if she brought Harleen up, and Rachel wasn't so sure any more.

"What's wrong?" Jack asked her quietly. He was gentle and calm, now, concerned.

Rachel shrugged her ill feelings off and shook her head. "Nothing. I'm fine."

But she was avoiding his eyes and Jack took her gently by the shoulders, frowning when she stiffened slightly "Rachel, what's wrong?" he pressed.

"I just . . ." She sighed and crossed her arms over her chest, staring at his. "That night . . . after the club, in the park . . . You asked me if I wanted to know how Harleen _really_ died." There was a moment's silence, then Jack's knuckles were under her chin, lifting her head up so he could look her in the eye.

"You waited four months to bring this up?" he asked softly. Rachel shrugged as her eyes tightened. She rubbed her arms, not wanting to be talking about this at all. Jack sighed, his eyes heavy and sad. "I'd ask why you don't trust me, but I suppose it's understandable, given the circumstances." He kissed her forehead gently. "Harleen died because I got a little too enthusiastic and bit her too hard, and she got scared and fell. I wasn't lying, Rachel." He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "But a part of me was glad that she fell," he confessed, and the anxiety in his voice was clear as Rachel looked up in surprise. "A part of me was screaming with delight as I watched her fall, the part that you saw in the park that night." He let her go, his hands hovering right above her shoulders, waiting for her to push him away.

Rachel leaned into him and sighed with relief. So did Jack, as his arms went around her once again. He lowered his head to her neck and kissed her gently, rubbing her tense back muscles.

"I love you, Jack," she whispered. He made a small noise of contentment, but it didn't bother her. Those words rarely came easily to him; he preferred to show her how he felt, rather than tell her. Then his hands started creeping down to her rump, initiating his favourite way of making up after a fight. Rachel laughed into his ear and squeaked, which made him start humming.

"We're going to play a game," he purred in her ear before licking it quickly.

Rachel laughed and leaned back in his arms. "And what game is that?"

His grin was wickedly delicious as he trailed his thumb along her lower lip. "We're going to play the quiet game," he told her.

"How do you play the quiet game?" Rachel bat her eyelashes at him coyly, sighing as his pinches on her rump turned into caresses.

"It's simple. You try to keep as quiet as you possibly can, while _I_," and he pinched her sharply, causing her to squeal again, "try to get you to be as _loud_ as possible. If you lose, I get to do whatever I want with you."

Rachel bit her lip as he raised one hand to her breasts and started toying with her nipples, a small moan forcing its way from her lips. "And what if I win?" she whispered.

"Well, right now you're _losing_," he responded with pleasure, giving her a good smack on the rear. Rachel gasped and let her head fall back, and he accepted the invitation to bite at her throat.

"Jack, we have an hour until the movers ---"

"Plenty of time for me to win," he whispered against her pulse, and when he pinched her nipple sharply Rachel clenched her jaws to keep her whine of pained pleasure silent.

A week or so after her birthday, Jack had brought up bondage shyly. Other than some blindfolding and feather-tickling, Rachel didn't have much experience with it, but she was definitely curious. It had thrilled Jack to learn that, and he'd been eager to give her a few books to read, telling her that the first time he'd smacked Harleen's ass when they were having sex, she'd demanded that he learn how to safely rough her up when she was in the mood to indulge his fetish. So Rachel had read the books, and at his encouragement looked BDSM up online and read more, increasingly fascinated and turned on by the idea of being at Jack's complete mercy.

At first, when she had agreed to try something light with him, she hadn't been sure she'd enjoy herself. But Jack had been wonderful, ooh-ing and aah-ing and generally making a fuss over how good she was doing, how wonderful she was as he tied her hands loosely behind her back and blindfolded her. The compliments and encouragement had eased her fears, and it helped that Jack preferred to have sex with her on top of him. It had been a complete rush, not being able to see him, relying only on the sound of his voice as he gasped out praise and the feel of him against her, inside of her. Every feeling had been intensified by her enforced blindness, and even though she'd been afraid of feeling totally helpless and dominated, she'd also gotten a sense of power over Jack as he'd groaned beneath her.

So, gradually, they'd worked more bondage into their sex life, Jack always being very clear on what he wanted to do that time, and making sure Rachel was completely comfortable with it. She'd been shy about making requests of her own, but Jack lit up like a kid at Christmas whenever she nervously cleared her throat.

Which was why Rachel was well on her way to being a happy little submissive, and why Jack loved playing these games with her.

"Am I allowed to talk?" she asked as he rubbed his fingers between her legs.

"Sure," he replied. "It's just ---"

She whined when he pulled her head back by a gentle handful of hair and moved his teeth to her breasts, biting gently through the fabric of her blouse and bra.

"--- _those_ noises that aren't allowed." He was pleased, though and Rachel brought her hands to her mouth to keep quiet. He pushed her gently to the couch and made her lean over it, resting her forearms on the back as he pressed his arousal into her rear, the hand between her legs alternating between rubbing her thighs and her panties, his free hand steadying himself on her hip. He leaned over her as the fingers of both hands dug into her, and she gasped. "I'm going to spank you," he growled in her ear, and Rachel's eyes rolled back in her head in agonizing anticipation. He almost always warned her, having found that her reactions were much more satisfying when she knew what was coming.

The first smack made her choke on a grunt, and he rubbed her stinging flesh soothingly for a moment, still thrusting gently against her rear. The second smack was harder, the soothing time not quite so long, and Rachel panted as her hair fell across her shoulders and enclosed her face. She couldn't suppress the breath of air that was forced from her with each strike of his hand on her backside, but he didn't tell her she was losing, so she supposed that it was allowed. He was slapping her in time with his thrusts, and Rachel cried out when he suddenly pulled her upright and turned her around. He laughed, then kissed her as he trailed a wrapped condom down her cheek, pressing it into her hands and Rachel gladly sank to her knees as his eyebrows went up in approval. Not having been given instructions otherwise, she held the condom between her teeth as she unfastened his belt and jeans, then pulled them down with his underwear. Jacked leaned forward slightly to grip the back of the couch with both hands as she unwrapped the condom and slid it over his erection, laughing softly as her tongue poked out of the corner of her mouth as she concentrated on getting it on him properly. Rachel squeezed his length firmly as she stood back up and that made Jack shudder and groan.

"Bitch," he grunted.

Rachel covered her mouth with both hands to keep her giggle in, and he twirled his finger around, a silent command for her to once again assume her bent-over position. She obeyed him and he lifted her skirt up, smacking her again and making her moan before pulling her panties down to her knees. Each noise she made brought him laughter, letting her know when she was losing and when she was winning. She wiggled her rear at him in anticipation, but he didn't enter her. He rubbed the tip of his arousal against her clit, then back, pushing inside of her just a little and holding her still with a cluck of his tongue when she pushed back against him. She whined and threw her head back, gasping as quietly as she could, and that make Jack almost howl with laughter. It was torture, exquisite torture and she hated him for it even as her eyes refused to focus and she mouthed pleas for him to take her.

Jack was an asshole, though, and refused. He was pinching, rubbing, slapping, pulling her hair gently because he knew she hated it being pulled roughly and he was a considerate asshole when he wanted to be, and there were tears streaming down her cheeks after a minute or so of this horrible, horrible, amazingly wonderful, awful torment. Jack leaned over her when he, perceptive considerate asshole that he was, noticed the tears.

"Are you all right?" he whispered in her ear. He kissed her cheek gently as he slowed his terrible onslaught, one hand stroking her hair. "You're beautiful," he murmured when she nodded, sniffling. "Wonderful. Amazing. You're doing so _good_, Rachel, I'm so _proud_ of you . . ." The soft, warm praises in her ear calmed her tears and continued as he finally, _finally_ pushed himself inside of her and Rachel moaned, naughty noises falling from her lips as she completely lost the quiet game. Jack laughed softly and held her tightly, kissing her neck as he thrust into her. It was a somewhat awkward angle but Rachel needed the physical comfort he was providing, needed him to hold her like this and anyway, she was crying out his name as she came, her legs almost giving out on her and Jack was there, groaning softly in her ear as he kept her standing, and a few thrusts later he shuddered with his own release.

Rachel sank slowly to the floor as he pulled out of her and Jack was still there, easing her descent and going with her, pulling her into his lap and rocking her as he hugged her tightly. His touch was firm as he ran his hands over her body, letting her know that he was there, comforting her as she quivered.

"That was fan_tastic_, Rachel," he told her as he kissed her lips. He was beaming, ridiculously proud of her and Rachel hiccuped with a laugh.

"But I lost," she pointed out in a partial whine.

Jack covered his own laugh with another kiss. "I hadn't planned on you winning," was his reply. "Oh, you were _amazing_."

Then he was back to cuddling her and Rachel couldn't help but feel proud of herself when he pointed out how far she'd gotten before losing control; it was slightly ridiculous to be proud of something like that, but the tone of his voice, the look on his face, the way Jack worded it . . . Rachel was blushing at her apparently amazing accomplishment, quite happy with herself. He patted her rear lightly and urged her up.

"Have to get cleaned up before the movers get here," he told her with a grin. Then he chased her into the shower as she shrieked with laughter.

***

"Hey, Rachel, look at this," Hideki called as she passed his office. She faltered and then walked backward to glance in at him. "No, no, come inside."

He was looking at her thoughtfully as she sat, easing herself down with care. Jack wasn't concerned with the fact the she had to sit on the ass he was so fond of spanking, and she was _sore_ this morning. He'd just laughed as she'd grouched at him about it, untying her from the ropes she'd been in all night long.

"You've got rope burns on your wrists and you're sitting like your ass hurts," her friend remarked. "What the _hell_ are you and Jack _doing_ at night?"

"I struggled too hard, and it _does_ hurt," Rachel snapped. "Asshole doesn't care that I have to _sit_ on it all damned day long." Hideki blinked quickly, trying not to laugh at her, but snorting giggles got out anyway. "What the hell do you want, Hideki?" She tugged her long sleeves down over her wrists and wished she'd worn larger bracelets.

"I just wanted to tell you that according to this website, you're my work spouse," he said with a pout. "Although I'm not tying you up, so don't ask."

"Shut up," Rachel muttered, then leaned over his desk to look at the computer screen.

Hideki shuddered. "Ugh. Pain. Yuck."

"I said shut up," she reminded him as she scanned the article, then started laughing. "Depending on each other for aspirin and pens and such, check . . . inside jokes, check . . . blunt honesty, yeah, completely . . . first in line for the gossip, that's us . . . knowing what each other orders for lunch, completely . . . finishing each other's sentences, mm-hm . . . knows as much about my personal life as a best friend or real spouse, definitely." She leaned back and laughed. "I think that qualifies us as work spouses, darling."

Hideki leaned back in his chair and laced his fingers behind his head, grinning at her. "So? Gonna tell me about your bondage adventures? Or do I have to call Jack and ask?"

"No!" Rachel said as she jumped, startled. "Don't call him!"

He was enjoying her panic. "Awww, what, will he spank you if I do? Am I not supposed to know?"

Rachel glared at him. "_Yes_, I'll get spanked, if you _must_ know. My God, _this _happened," and she thrust her wrists at him and then gestured to her rear, "because I didn't put on the skirt he wanted me to wear!" Hideki's eyebrows shot up in sudden concern, and Rachel grinned at him. "No, no, he's not abusing me, Hideki. Trust me, I love everything he does. Well, at the time." She was blushing, scooting the chair around to his side of the desk and leaning in toward him. "He knows what he's doing, Hideki. We talked about it a lot at first, and he let me borrow some books and I did a lot of research on my own. He was _very_ insistent that I learn as much as I could before agreeing to anything."

"I hadn't thought you'd like that sort of thing," Hideki mused.

Rachel's flush deepened and she shifted in her seat as she licked her lips, turned on by just the memories of she and Jack's playtimes. "I hadn't, either, but oh my God, Hideki . . . I mean, _wow_. Just . . . just _wow_."

"Oh, Christ, you're getting my chair wet, aren't you?" He rolled his eyes and shooed her away. "Get back to work, you naughty girl, before I tell Jack you're telling tales."

Rachel laughed and flipped him off. "Yes, _dear_."

Her secretary looked up as she passed by. "Ms. Dawes, Jack is on the line for you."

That made Rachel pause with a frown. "All right. I'll take it in my office." She pursed her lips as she closed the door, wondering what he wanted. Jack never called her at work, and she was worried as she picked up the receiver and hit the blinking hold button. It might not be _her_ Jack, but . . . "This is Rachel Dawes, thank you for holding."

"Took you long enough."

Yes, it was _her_ Jack. The tingle between her legs intensified at his gruff but not unhappy voice. It was the voice he used when she disobeyed him in bed (or on the couch, the washer and dryer, kitchen table . . .), which meant he was feeling a little frisky, and Rachel cleared her throat as her heart started pounding.

"I was talking with Hideki, Jack. Is everything all right?"

"Is this being recorded?"

God, he could be such an ass. Rachel rolled her eyes. "No, it's not."

"Sit in your chair."

"Jack, look, I'm working right now ---"

"Gossiping with that poofter isn't working."

She sighed. "Hideki is also an Assistant D.A., Jack. I'm not _always_ gossiping with him."

He snorted. "Sit in your chair." Rachel rolled her eyes again and sat, hissing a little. Jack's chuckle was pleased. "A little sore?"

"You know I am," she told him sharply. "Now, what do you want."

"Can anyone see into your office?"

"No; why?" She had the disturbing feeling she knew the answer to that.

He licked his lips and she could hear the mounting excitement in his voice, and vowed never to leave him home alone when she was at work again. "Put your left hand on your thigh."

"Jack, I am _not_ having phone sex with you while I'm at work." She did as she had been told, though, embarrassingly thrilled at the terrible wrongness of what they were doing.

"Yes, you are. Are you wet?" She moaned a slight affirmative and he sighed softly. "Touch yourself." Rachel bit her lip and obeyed, sliding her fingers into her panties and running them lightly over herself, then pushing deeper until she found her clit. "Are you?"

"Yessss," she hissed, leaning forward and resting her elbow on the desk as she licked her lips. "Jack, please, I can't do this right now."

"But you haven't hung up on me, which means you can." His self-assured logic was infuriating, and when he grunted a little she knew she wasn't the only one getting off on this. "Now, put your fingers inside yourself, and then lick them clean. I want to hear it."

Rachel whined in the back of her throat, her vaginal walls constricting with electric pleasure as she dipped two fingers into herself, then removed them and raised them to her lips. She hesitated, panting along with Jack, the slid the tips of her fingers into her mouth and very obviously licked and sucked until they were as clean as they'd get without soap and hot water.

"Do it again," he whispered, his voice harsh in her ear.

Rachel obeyed him, whimpering softly as he kept giving her instructions on how to please herself, leaning her forehead on the desk and gasping for air, praying no one walked in and caught her. "Oh, God, Jack . . ."

He laughed in her ear and then groaned, his breath coming faster and more irregular, just like her own. "Three fingers, Rachel. Fuck yourself."

She gladly followed his whispered order, whining and whispering please for him to let her come, and when he finally gave her permission Rachel almost slid off of her chair as she shook and her thighs clenched. He gasped as he brought himself to completion, then laughed breathlessly as they both panted for air.

"_Damn_, you're fun," he grunted, then giggled. "Are you all right?"

Rachel moaned and nodded, then remembered he couldn't see her and licked her lips. "Yeah," she mumbled. "I'm fine."

"Need a hug?"

"Piss off."

That made him laugh harder. "You're so amazing," he crooned. "You're such a good girl, Rachel. I think you deserve a good pussy licking when you get home." That made Rachel gasp in delighted anticipation even as she turned red, and Jack was probably on his side as he howled. "Now, get back to work, sweetheart, and be good."

"I love you," she whispered.

Jack's laugh was full of warmth this time. "I know. I'll see you when you get home." Then the line went dead and Rachel set the phone back in its cradle blindly, still throbbing despite her orgasm. She'd have to start bringing extra underwear to work, if Jack decided he liked _this_ new game of his. She got up shakily to wash her hands in the bathroom that was connected to her office, thankful for that bit of privacy.

***********

**A/N:** Now, I'm one of those authors who doesn't like to write about things I have no clue about, which is why quantum physics isn't ever mentioned in this fic. Therefore, I put quite a bit of research into bondage when I was writing this chapter, and while it doesn't make me an expert on the BDSM lifestyle, I now know a fair amount. Just enough to get me in trouble, the saying goes. Larissa is also a strong advocate of safer sex and safety in general, as well as using juditious amounts of common sense.

The point we have here, my little review monkeys, is that should you have an interest in BDSM, either because of this chapter or maybe you've been interested for a while, read up on it. Be safe. I have a lot of links I can give you if you'd like, and all you have to do is ask.

Also, in response to a reviewer who was apparently wondering who Bethany is, she's Rachel's mother and was introduced in chapter 12.


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N:** I know I usually put my notes after the chapter, but this is the last chapter and I wanted to personally apologise for the vast amounts of suck and fail it's comprised of. My only excuse is that I have a terrible habit of stopping fics at the very last chapter and never finishing them, so I was in a rush to get this final chapter out. Don't cry, my little review monkeys, there's a sequel on the way that I hope you enjoy just as much as, if not more than, you've enjoyed Speak.

And while I'm at it, I'd also like to reiterate in a rather more succinct manner that I did a lot of research into BDSM for this chapter and the previous one, but if I've made any mistakes and you're knowedgeable about BDSM, I apologise and please let me know. I've got lots of links if anyone's interested; just ask. Safer sex is awesome, peeps. It's the only sex you should be having.

******

Rachel sighed and curled up behind Jack, throwing her arm around his chest and hugging him tightly to her as he slept. His medication was hitting him particularly hard today, which was why she was laying in bed with him and not working. He was restless during the night and slept the day away, and had been stuck in that infuriating pattern for the past week. Today she hadn't even been able to get more than a grunt from him, and had called in sick for both of them. She kissed his bare shoulder and stroked her thumb over his scars, recalling what he'd told her a few weeks ago.

_"I used to cut myself."_

_"All over?"_

_"I don't remember how I got to my back . . . long blade, maybe."_

_". . . Why?"_

_"I don't know, and I don't want to know. I felt better when I did it . . . I felt _something_, which was better than nothing."_

He'd pulled her close at that point, eyes shadowed as he brooded over a past that haunted him even when he couldn't remember why, and now Rachel squeezed tears from her eyes as she held his sleeping form, wishing a million and one things had been different for both of them. The meds had kicked in later than Dr. Morgenson had predicted, but the man had been right about Jack being useless once they had.

Having to miss work to take care of Jack put enough stress on Rachel, and to make it worse, she was starting to feel an uneasy sort of need building in her. She had to physically stop herself from putting on low-cut blouses and high-cut skirts when she got ready for work, and Hideki had pulled her aside briefly the other day, concerned about her suddenly more flirtatious nature. His firm grip on her arm had made her gasp and lean into the touch, and he'd let her go as soon as he'd realised it was turning her on. Rachel had almost cried at the loss of physical contact, hating that she didn't know what was wrong with her all of a sudden. Jack would know, she was sure, but he was rarely coherent these days.

A few hours later Hideki had called her into his office and sat her at his desk, reading from some web page he'd found about submissive frenzies. She'd trembled as she recognised all of the symptoms he'd listed, slumped in relief to know that it was a natural occurrence. She still hated it, but he'd been very firm in assuring himself that she understood what was happening, that when a submissive wasn't with their dominant for whatever reason, they would go into a literal withdrawal period, then subtly broadcast themselves as available to new dominants.

That part had made her sick to her stomach. Rachel didn't _want_ a new dominant. She wanted _Jack_, but he was completely out of it, which was why she was determined to not leave his side today. If he'd known the meds were going to affect him this much, she knew that he'd have mentioned this to her, made sure she knew how to deal with it. Rachel bit her lower lip and buried her face in his strong, broad back, trying not to cry.

She woke up some time later and Jack had shifted in his sleep, facing her and slipping his arms around her. It was the first time he'd moved this much in three days, and Rachel almost wept with joy. She kissed him eagerly, but he was fast asleep, and it disappointed her. Still, him moving like that was an improvement, and Dr. Morgenson had said that as soon as he started moving around again, he'd be up and about soon after.

A few of the ladies from the support group Morgenson had told her to go to had dropped by once Jack had finally passed out from the drugs in his system, making sure he and Rachel were eating and bathing, and sometimes just keeping her company as she watched over him. In fact . . . She raised her head and listened, and smiled when she heard Alfred puttering around. He'd shown up at her door unexpectedly but welcome, claiming to be on loan from Bruce for however long she needed him. Whether or not Bruce had thought of it or just approved of it Rachel didn't know, but she'd been in tears of gratitude as she'd let him in.

There was a polite knock on the bedroom door. "Rachel? It's time to eat."

She unwound herself from Jack and sat up, giggling in near hysterical joy as he shifted and buried his head in her lap. She adjust the t-shirt of his that she was wearing, smoothed her hair down, and called out to Alfred. "Come on in."

His smiling face greeted her as he pushed the door open, holding a tray of food that made Rachel's mouth water from the smell alone. "Good; I was afraid you might be sleeping. He's moved?"

She nodded, eyes glowing with excitement. "He ought to wake up tonight or tomorrow."

"I'm glad," her friend said quietly. He set the tray of food across her upper thighs and then went to Jack's side of the bed, sitting down gently and hoisting Jack into a sitting position. This had become routine, Alfred gently forcing soup down Jack's throat while Rachel ate her own food and watched him like a hawk. Then he would watch over them both as she slipped into dreams, and as Rachel's eyes closed, she sent thanks to whoever had gifted her with such amazing people in her life.

***

"Whuddyuh doin' . . ." Rachel turned around and beamed at Jack, fluffing her curled hair. "L'k funny . . ." Jack was slurring his words almost to the point of incomprehension, but at least he was awake and talking. His eyes squinted at her. "C'mere . . ."

She went to him and sat down on the bed, leaning over to fuss with his blankets. He stared at her hair, then snorted faintly. Rachel leaned over and kissed him.

"I love you, Jack," she whispered.

"L've y' too . . ." That made her almost cry and she giggled, snuggling next to him as he shifted to throw his arm haphazardly over her stomach. Then he sighed. "T'ch y's'lf . . ."

"What?" Rachel whispered as her heart stopped.

He grunted and tried to bite her shoulder, but all that he was capable of was resting his teeth against her skin. "Tusssha sulf," he repeated, rolling bleary eyes up at her.

"Touch myself?" she asked as her heart started pounding. He grunted, sounding vaguely pleased, and Rachel quivered as he squeezed her hand when she put it on her belly.

"Wa'a hep . . ."

That made Rachel laugh and she tilted her head down to kiss Jack's forehead as she covered his hand with hers and pulled it under the covers and between her legs, sighing with pleasure as his fingers twitched against her. She corrected him, helping his fingers along, keeping her eyes glued to his as she whimpered. It was a damn good thing Alfred wasn't there at the moment. Jack was humming in fits and starts, more of a faintly musical grunt than anything, but it made Rachel's whole body tense up with pleasure. Her orgasm hit her with little warning and she cried out, her back arching off the bed, and Jack just grunted with amusement as she settled down again.

"Be'er?" he mumbled into her shoulder.

"So much," Rachel groaned, then turned over to kiss him. He responded as best he could, then sighed and closed his eyes, exhausted from that little exertion. Rachel let him slip back into sleep, holding him to her tightly.

***

"Where is this?"

He was helping her scrapbook and Rachel looked up from the page she was working on, her hair in high pigtails and curled, thigh-high white stockings on her legs and Mary Janes on her feet, which were swinging idly in the air as she lay on her stomach. She was wearing cream panties with pink ribbon highlights and a matching bra, with a lollipop stuck in her mouth, and that was all. Jack was on a semi-Lolita kick.

"Upstate; Mom owns a summer home up there. I haven't been there for years." She sighed fondly and Jack seemed hesitant as he gazed at the picture of the beach front house. "It's on two acres, I think."

He licked his lips and then looked at her with an oddly serious expression on his face, then nodded and put the picture down. "Must be nice."

"I love it there," she said wistfully. "It's quiet, and cosy, and out of the way. The town isn't very large; certainly not like Gotham." Jack nodded attentively as she made a face. "I think you'd like it."

"Looks great." He tapped his fingers on his legs, then got up and wandered off. Rachel let him go without comment, concentrating on her assigned page. It wasn't until he lay down next to her, their shoulders brushing, that she looked up again. He pushed something at her. "Not too good at this no matter how much I practice, so why don't you just open it and tell me what you think."

Rachel frowned in puzzlement and picked up the small box in front of her, teeth cracking the lollipop as she unwrapped it and hummed. Jack pushed a plate at her.

"Spit that out, first."

She rolled her eyes to the side to regard him, then shrugged and took the candy from her lips, giving it a good lick before setting it on the plate and turning back to the box, which held a smaller box. She sighed and pulled that one out, unwrapping it to find yet a smaller box inside. Rachel rolled her eyes and idly plucked the gold ribbon from this newest box, fully expecting an even tinier box to be encased inside it.

She blinked when she opened it. Well. It was square, at any rate. It certainly sparkled too much to be a box. A little small, too. Far too round on the bottom. Fit perfectly on her left ring finger, and there was a matching slave bracelet that attached to it, it looked like.

The frantic drumming of fingers on her stack of coloured paper drew Rachel's attention from studying the gold and diamond ring she'd slid on out of curiosity and she turned to look at Jack. He was breathing too fast, and his face was a little red. He swallowed sharply and blinked at her, and then the enormity of the situation sunk in and Rachel realised just what exactly she'd put on.

Then, _then_ her heart stopped and she stared at him in shock before she started to shake and splutter. Jack bit his lower lip as Rachel's eyes filled with tears, and as they started to fall down her cheek she flipped on her side and threw her arms around Jack, bursting into tears.

"Oh, God, Jack, _yes_," Rachel sobbed, hysterical laughter making her convulse as she clung to him, kissing his face as she laughed and cried. "Yes yes yes yes _yes_!" She squealed with joy as Jack started laughing with her, wrapping his arms around her waist and rolling onto his back, a huge grin of relief on his lips as he held her just as tightly as she was holding him. She couldn't believe it. After nearly two years, Jack had just given her an engagement ring. He'd proposed. Oh, God, and she'd said yes. They were going to get married. He wanted to marry her.

Jack pulled her down for a bruising kiss and she returned it, gasping into his mouth and digging her fingers through his hair, still crying even as he started unfastening her cute little bra.

It was a long time before Rory felt safe enough to crawl out from under the couch.

***

Rachel stood up and the group in the dining room fell silent, looking at her expectantly. She was grinning like a fool and had a hold of Jack's hand, resting it on his shoulder as she stood next to him, and then she cleared her throat.

"Well. I know Mom and Dr. Morgenson both know why you're all here, and Bruce, thank you so much for having us all over." Her friend nodded with a smile. "Ah . . . well." She laughed, absurdly nervous, and Jack rubbed his cheek against her hand to calm her down. "Well . . ."

"We're getting married," Jack interrupted her as he stood up. He slung his arm around her waist and raised a challenging eyebrow at the six people who had no clue what this dinner was about, daring them to protest.

If there were any, though, Hideki's whoop of pure joy drowned them all out and he flung himself out of his seat and at Jack and Rachel, wrapping them in a big bear hug. Bruce was surprised, but he didn't seem too terribly shocked, which meant that her mother had to have warned him that something was up. That or he was more comfortable with Jack than Rachel had thought. Gordon, Raoul, Charles, and Alfred looked pleasantly surprised, and after Hideki had been pried off, Rachel and Jack were offered congratulations and well wishes. Alfred refilled their wine glasses and the couple was offered a toast, then Jack cleared his throat.

"We were also thinking of moving," he said. "Out of Gotham."

_That_ brought a shocked silence to the table and seven pairs of eyes stared at them; Dr. Morgenson was the only one who knew of their wishes in that regard.

"Where _to_?" Hideki finally asked, his voice a pitiful whine.

Rachel was blushing as Jack rubbed her shoulder with his thumb and looked at her mother. "Well, Mom, we were thinking of the beach house in Loleta . . . if you're willing to sell it to us. And if we can get permission for Jack to leave Gotham. It all hinges on that."

Bethany had tears in her eyes as she got up and threw her arms around Rachel, hugging her fiercely before turning to Jack and hugging him, too. He returned the embrace with only a little hesitation, and then Bethany wiped at her eyes.

"You can _have_ it," she said as her voice shook. "I'm not going to make you pay, Rachel. Don't argue with me." Hideki was still whining about Rachel leaving him. "Have you set a date?" Bethany asked, ignoring him.

"Not yet," Rachel admitted. "We were thinking a small ceremony, maybe at the courthouse, with pretty much just everyone here."

"Can I be best man?"

"More like the maid of honour," Gordon commented. Hideki turned red, and so did Raoul, but Jim was ignoring them.

Alfred nudge Bruce and her friend cleared his throat. "Why not have it here?" he asked. "There's no reason not to."

"Oh, yes, there _is_ reason not to," Rachel told him firmly. "If we have it here, you'll try to pay for everything."

He shrugged and flicked his hand like her refusal was an annoying fly. "So? I can afford it; it's the least I can do."

Rachel turned to her fiancé (_fiancé!_) for support. "Jack . . ."

He just shrugged. "Hey, if Bruce wants to foot the bill, I'm fine with that." He laughed when Rachel sighed and rolled her eyes, then kissed her temple. "What's to stop him from depositing money in your account if you insist on paying for the wedding?" he reasoned. Bruce raised his eyebrows like he hadn't considered that, and Rachel threw her hands up in defeat.

"Fine," she sighed. "You can pay."

"Next month's good, if you want it right away," Bruce said.

"That's perfect," Jack said before Rachel could answer. "Thank you."

The other man just smiled slightly and nodded.

***

The wedding was small, as promised, just Bruce, Alfred, Bethany, Charles, Gordon, Dr. Morgenson, and Raoul and Hideki. The Justice of the Peace was a close friend of Alfred's and sworn to secrecy, and it had been easy for Hideki to get Judge Bowen to revise Jack's parole so he could move out of Gotham. It turned out that her brother was an attorney in Loleta, and looking for a law partner. She'd given him Rachel's number and he'd been delighted that the District Attorney for Gotham City was moving to his town and would need work; he'd offered her a partnership in his law firm on the spot. Jack's encouraging swat on the rear had prompted her to accept the offer of a job, if not full partnership, and then their life was a whirlwind of packing and putting their affairs in order. Charles was determined to keep Jack in her employment, scheming as fast as her formidable mind could scheme, planning ways to keep him reliably in touch for whatever she might need him for. Hideki was almost in tears every time he looked at her, though he always cracked up when Jack was mentioned, because the man had chosen to take Rachel's last name.

Then, finally, after another month and a half of the press going crazy over the news of their marriage and Rachel's announcement that she wasn't going to run for D.A. again, it was time for them to load up Rachel's car with the last of the things they hadn't already shipped to their new house, courtesy of Bruce, and their friends and family gathered at Bethany's house to bid them farewell.

There were tears in Rachel's eyes as she hugged her friends tightly, promising to stay in touch and visit often, after they'd gotten settled in. Then Bruce was urging her into the car, murmuring about how late it was getting and Rachel didn't want to go, but Jack was there with that wonderful, adoring smile on his face so she gave a last round of hugs, wiped the tears from her eyes, and got in next to him. Bethany and Hideki wee sobbing in each others' arms as Jack and Rachel drove off, sharing a smile as they headed toward a new life together.

********

**A/N:** Told you so.


	17. Link to Sing

Hey, y'all! It occurs to me, as I cry the lonely tears of an attention whore who isn't getting enough attention, that a lot of you might not know that I've started posting the sequel to Speak, Sing, or have the link. Oh, the agony. So, here it is. ^_^

.net/s/4658467/1/Sing

Enjoy! 


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